X 


STEPHEN  B.  WEEKS 

CLASS  OF  1886;  PH.D.  THE  XHWS  HOPKINS  UNIVERSITY 

UBMliSy 

OF  THE 

UMVEKSimY  OF  NOIRM  CAMJIMA 
THE  WEEKS  C€)1LILECTI(D)N 

OF 

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CAXTON'S  BOOK: 


A   COLLECTION   OF 


Essays,  Poems,  Tales  and  Sketches. 


BY  THE   LATE 


W.   H.   RHODES. 


EDITED    BY   DANIEL     O'CONNELL. 


SAN   FRANCISCO: 

A.  L.  BANCROFT  AND   COMPANY. 

1876. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876, 

By  SUSAN  RHODES, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


San  Francisco: 
A.  L.  Bancroft  and  Company, 

PRINTERS   and   BINDERS. 


PREFACE. 


rr^HE  sketclies  and  poems  in  tins  volume  were  written 
-"-  at  a  time  when  the  author  was  engaged  in  the 
practice  of  a  laborious  profession.  It  was  the  inten- 
tion of  Mr.  Rhodes  to  collect  them  from  the  various 
newspapers  and  periodicals  in  which  they  had  appeared, 
and  publish  them  in  book-form  whenever  he  could  ob- 
tain a  respite  from  his  arduous  duties.  But  before  he 
carried  out  his  long-cherished  object  he  died,  in  the 
prime  of  his  manhood  and  the  ripeness  of  his  literary 
life.  Many  of  his  poems  were  written  for  the  monthly 
gatherings  of  the  Bohemian  Club.  There,  when  Cax- 
ton's  name  was  announced,  his  literary  friends  thronged 
about  him,  confident  of  the  rich  treat  the  brain  of  their 
beloved  poet  had  provided  for  them.  His  wit  was  keen 
and  sparkling,  without  a  shade  of  malice;  and  many  an 
anecdote,  that  began  with  some  delightful  absurdity, 
closed  in  a  pathos  that  showed  the  great  versatility  of 
Caxton's  genius.  The  Case  of  Summerfield,  which  is 
perhaps  the  most  ingenious  of  the  tales  in  that  peculiar 
vein,  was  widely  copied  and  warmly  praised  for  the 
originality  of  its  plan  and  the  skill  of  its  execution. 
The  editor  of  this  work  has  observed,  as  far  as  lay  in 

so 


4  Preface, 

his  power,  the  intention  of  the  author  in  the  selection 
of  those  compositions  which  Mr.  Ehodes  had  put  aside 
for  compilation.  With  such  a  mass  and  variety  of  mate- 
rial (for  Caxton  had  been  a  busy  worker)  it  was  difficult 
to  select  from  productions  all  of  which  were  excellent. 
Few  liberties  have  been  taken  with  them;  for,  indeed, 
Caxton  was  himself  so  conscientious  in  the  arrangement 
and  correction  of  his  manuscript,  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  some  slight  and  unimportant  alterations,  this 
book  goes  before  his  friends  and  the  public  in  the  same 
order  as  the  author  would  have  chosen  had  he  been 
spared  to  perform  the  task. 


In  Memoriam. 


AT  the  time  when,  according  to  custom,  Mr.  Eliodes's 
death  was  formally  announced  to  the  several 
Courts  of  Record  in  San  Francisco,  one  of  tlie  learned 
Judges  urged  the  publication  of  his  writings  in  some 
form  which  would  give  the  bar  a  permanent  memo- 
rial of  one  of  its  most  esteemed  members,  and  to 
them  their  proper  place  in  American  literature.  This 
has  been  accomplished  by  the  present  volume.  It  is 
sincerely  to  be  hoped  that  while  it  willlargely  add  to  Mr. 
Ehodes's  reputation,  it  may  also  serve  to  furnish  a  most 
interesting  family  some  substantial  aid  in  the  struggle 
with  life,  from  which  the  beloved  husband  and  tender 
father  has  unhappily  been  removed. 

William  Henry  Rhodes  was  born  July  16,  1822,  in 
Windsor,  North  Carolina.  His  mother  died  when  he 
was  six  years  old,  and  his  father,  Col.  E.  A.  Rhodes, 
sent  him  to  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  to  he  educated 
at  the  seat  of  learning  established  there.  Col.  Rhodes 
was  subsequently  appointed  United  States  Consul  at 
Galveston,  Texas,  and  without  completing  his  college 
course,  the  son  followed  his  father  to  his  new  home. 
There  he  diligently  pursued  his  studies.  He  found 
many  young  men  like  himself,  ambitious  and  zealous 
in  acquiring  information,  and  these  he  associated  with 
himself  in  literary  and  debating  clubs,  where  the  most 


6  In  Memo7'ia7n. 

important  matters  of  natural  science  and  political  econ- 
omy were  discussed.  The  effect  of  this  self-bestowed 
education  was  most  marked.  It  remained  with  liim  all 
his  life.  He  was  tborougblj  versed  in  the  political  his- 
tory of  the  country,  and  possessed  an  amount  of  knowl- 
edge concerning  the  career,  motives  and  objects  of  pol- 
itics, parties  and  public  men,  which,  had  he  ever  chosen 
to  embark  in  public  life,  would  have  made  him  distin- 
guished and  successful.  No  one  ever  discussed  with 
him  the  questions  connected  with  the  theory  of  our 
government  without  a  thorough  respect  for  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  convictions,  and  the  ability  with  which 
they  were  maintained.  He  was,  in  theory,  a  thorough 
partisan  of  the  Southern  political  and  constitutional 
school  of  ideas,  and  never  abandoned  them.  But  he 
advocated  them  without  passion  or  apparent  prejudice, 
and  at  all  times  shrunk  from  active  connection  with 
politics  as  a  trade.  He  was  an  idealist  in  law,  in 
science  and  government,  and  perhaps  his  early  train- 
ing, self-imposed  and  self-contained,  had  much  to  do 
with  his  peculiarities. 

In  1844,  he  entered  Harvard  Law  School,  where  he 
remained  for  two  years.  Here,  as  at  home  among  his 
young  friends,  he  was  a  master-spirit  and  leader.  He 
was  an  especial  favorite  of  his  instructors;  was  noted 
for  his  studious  and  exemplary  habits,  while  his  genial 
and  courteous  manners  won  the  lasting  friendship  of 
his  classmates  and  companions.  His  fondness  for  weav- 
ing the  problems  of  science  with  fiction,  which  became 
afterwards  so  marked  a  characteristic  of  his  literary 
efforts,  attracted  the  especial  attention  of  his  professors; 
and  had  Mr.  Ehodes  devoted  himself  to  this  then  novel 
department  of  letters,  he  would  have  become,  no  doubt, 
greatly  distinguished  as  a  writer;  and  the  great  master 


In  Mcmo7'ia77t.  y 

of  scientific  fiction,  Jules  Yerne,  would  Lave  found  the 
field  of  his  efforts  already  sown  and  reaped  by  the  young 
Southern  student.  But  his  necessities  and  parental 
choice,  conspired  to  keep  him  at  "the  lawless  science 
of  the  law;"  and  literature  became  an  incident  of  life, 
rather  than  its  end  and  aim.  He  never  really  loved  the 
law.  He  rather  lived  by  it  than  in  it.  He  became  a 
good  lawyer,  but  was  an  unwilling  practitioner.  He 
understood  legal  principles  thoroughly.  He  loved  the 
higher  lessons  of  truth  and  justice,  of  right  and  wrong, 
fas  et  nefas,  which  they  illustrated;  but  he  bent  himself 
to  the  necessary  details  of  professional  life — to  the 
money-getting  part  of  it  —  with  a  peculiar  and  con- 
stantly increasing  reluctance.  The  yoke  of  labor  galled 
him,  and  always  more  severely.  An  opportunity  to 
speak  and  write  what  was  most  pleasing  to  his  taste, 
which  set  him  free  as  a  liberated  prisoner  of  thought, 
his  untrammeled  and  wandering  imagination  extrava- 
gantly interweaving  scientific  principles,  natural  forces, 
and  elemental  facts,  in  some  witch's  dance  of  fancy, 
where  he  dissolved  in  its  alchemy,  earth,  air  and  water, 
and  created  a  world  of  his  own,  or  destroyed  that  be- 
neath his  feet,  was  of  more  value  to  him,  though  it 
brought  him  no  gain,  than  a  stiff  cause  in  courts  which 
bound  him  to  dry  details  of  weary  facts  and  legal  propo- 
sitions, though  every  hour  of  his  time  bestowed  a  golden 
reward. 

His  early  professional  life  was  passed  in  Galveston. 
He  was  measurably  successful  in  it,  and  won  many 
friends  by  his  gallant  and  chivalrous  advocacy  of  the 
causes  intrusted  to  him.  His  personal  popularity  ele- 
vated him  to  a  Probate  Judgeship  in  Texas.  This  ofiice 
he  filled  with  honor;  and  at  the  expiration  of  his  term, 
he  returned,  after  a  brief  sojourn  in  New  York,  to  his 


8  hi  Memoria7n. 

native  state  and  town,  where  he  practiced  bis  profession 
until  1850.  In  this  year  he  caught  the  inspiration  of 
adventure  in  the  ne^v  El  Dorado,  and  sailed  for  Califor- 
nia. From  that  time  he  continued  a  citizen  of  this 
State.  He  was  widely  known  and  universally  respected. 
He  practiced  his  profession  with  diligence;  but  mind 
and  heart  were  inviting  him  to  the  life  and  career  of  a 
man  of  letters;  and  he  was  every  day  sacrificed  to  duty, 
as  he  esteemed  it.  He  was  too  conscientious  to  become 
indifferent  to  his  clients'  interests :  but  he  had  no  ambi- 
tion for  distinction  as  a  jurist.  He  was  utterly  indiffer- 
ent to  the  profits  of  his  labors.  He  cared  nothing  for 
monej'-,  or  for  those  who  possessed  it.  His  real  life  and 
real  enjoyments  were  of  a  far  different  sort;  and  his 
genius  was  perpetually  bound  to  the  altar,  and  sacrificed 
by  a  sense  of  obligation,  and  a  pride  which  never  per- 
mitted him  to  abandon  the  profession  for  which  he  was 
educated.  Like  many  another  man  of  peculiar  mental 
qualities,  he  distrusted  himself  where  he  should  have 
been  most  confident.  The  writer  has  often  discussed 
with  Mr.  Ehodes  his  professional  and  literary  life, 
urged  him  to  devote  himself  to  literature,  and  endeav- 
ored to  point  out  to  him  the  real  road  to  success.  But 
he  dreaded  the  venture;  and  like  a  swift-footed  blooded 
horse,  fit  to  run  a  course  for  a  man's  life,  continued  on 
his  way,  harnessed  to  a  plow,  and  broke  his  heart  in 
the  harness!  / 

William  Henry  Ehodes  will  long  be  remembered  by 
his  contemporaries  at  the  Bar  of  California  as  a  man  of 
rare  genius,  exemplary  habits,  high  honor,  and  gentle 
manners,  with  wit  and  humor  unexcelled.  His  writings 
are  illumined  by  powerful  fancy,  scientific  knowledge, 
and  a  reasoning  power  which  gave  to  his  most  weird 
imaginations  the  similitude  of  truth  and  the  apparel  of 


In  MemoiHant.  9 

facts.  Nor  did  they,  nor  do  they,  do  him  justice.  He 
could  have  accomplished  far  more  had  circumstances 
been  propitious  to  him.  That  they  were  not,  is  and  will 
always  be  a  source  of  regret.  That,  environed  as  he 
was,  he  achieved  so  much  more  than  his  fellows,  has 
made  his  friends  always  loyal  to  him  while  living,  and 
foud  in  their  memories  of  him  when  dead.  We  give 
his  productions  to  the  world  with  satisfaction,  not 
unmingled  Avith  regret  that  what  is,  is  only  the  faint 
echo,  the  unfulfilled  promise  of  what  might  have  been. 
Still,  may  we  say,  and  ask  those  who  read  these  sketches 
to  say  with  us,  as  they  laj''  down  the  volume:  " Hahet 
enini  jastam  venerationem,  quicqaid  excelUt" 

W.  H.  L.  B. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PEEFACE 3 

IX  MEMORLUl '. 5 


I.     THE  CASE  OF  SUMMERFIELB 13 

II.     TEE  MERCHANTS'   EXCHANGE 34 

III.     THE  DESERTED  SCHOOLHOUSE 37 

IV.    FOR  AN  ALBUM. 50 

V.    PHASES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHN  POLLEXFEN. . .     5'2 

VI.     THE  LOVE-KNOT 94 

VII.     THE  AZTEC  PRINCESS 95 

VIII.     THE  MOTEER'S  EPISTLE 154 

IX.    LEGENDS  OF  LAKE  BIGLER. 156 

X.    ROSENTHAL'S  ELAINE 171 

XI.     THE  TELESCOPIC  EYE 175 

XII.     THE  EMERALD  ISLE 191 

XIII.     THE  EARTH'S  HOT  CENTER 199 


1 2  Contents. 

PAGE 

XIV,     WILDET'S  DREAM. 212 

XV.     WHITHERWARD 218 

XVI.     OUR   WEDDING  DAY 229 

XVII.     THE  OLD    YEAR  AND   THE  NEW 231 

XVIII.    A  PAIR  OF  MYTHS 233 

XIX.     THE  LAST  OF  HIS  RACE 247 

XX.     THE  TWO  GEORGES 249 

XXI.    MASONRY. 260 

XXII.    POLLOCK'S  EUTHANASIA 262 

XXIII.  SCIENCE,  LITER  A  TVRE,AND  ART  DUR ING  THE 

FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CEN- 
TURY.   264 

XXIV.  THE  ENROBING  OF  LIBERTY 276 

XXV.     A   CAKE  OF  SOAP 279 

XXVI.     THE  SUMMERFIELD  CASE 280 

XXVII.     THE  A  VITOR 291 

XXVIII.    LOST  AND  FOUND 293 


CAXTON'S  BOOK. 


I. 

THE  CASE  OF  SUMMERFIELD. 

THE  following  manuscript  was  found  among  the 
effects  of  the  late  Leonidas  Parker,  in  relation  to 
one  Gregory  Summerfield,  or,  as  he  was  called  at  the 
time  those  singular  events  first  attracted  public  notice, 
"The  Man  with  a  Secret."  Parker  was  an  eminent 
lawyer,  a  man  of  firm  will,  fond  of  dabbling  in  the 
occult  sciences,  but  never  allowing  this  tendency  to 
interfere  with  the  earnest  practice  of  his  profession. 
This  astounding  narrative  is  prefaced  by  the  annexed 
clipping  from  the  "Auburn  Messenger"  of  November  1, 
1870: 

A  few  days  since,  we  called  public  attention  to  the  singu- 
lar conduct  of  James  G.  Wilkius,  justice  of  the  peace  for  the 
"Cape  Horn"  district,  in  this  county,  in  discharging  with- 
out trial  a  man  named  Parker,  who  was,  as  we  still  think, 
seriously  implicated  in  the  mysterious  death  of  an  old  man 
named  Summerfield,  who,  our  readers  will  probably  remem- 
ber, met  so  tragical  an  end  on  the  line  of  the  Central  Pacific 
Railroad,  in  the  month  of  October  last.  "VVe  have  now  to 
record  another  bold  outrage  on  public  justice,  in  connection 
with  the  same  affair.  The  grand  jury  of  Placer  County  has 
just  adjourned,  without  finding  any  bill  against  the  person 
named  above.  Not  only  did  they  refuse  to  find  a  true  bill, 
or  to  make  any  presentment,  but  they  went  one  step  further 


14  Cax ton's  Book. 

toward  tlie  exoneration  of  the  offender:  tliey  specially  ignored 
the  indictment  which  our  district  attorney  deemed  it  his 
duty  to  present.  The  main  facts  in  relation  to  the  arrest  and 
subsequent  discharge  of  Parker  may  be  summed  up  in  few 
words: 

It  api^eai's  that,  about  the  last  of  October,  one  Gregory 
Summerfield,  an  old  man  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  in 
company  with  Parker,  took  passage  for  Chicago,  via  the 
Pacific  Railroad,  and  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
reached  the  neighborhood  of  Caj)e  Horn,  in  this  county. 
Nothing  of  any  special  importance  seems  to  have  attracted 
the  attention  of  any  of  the  passengers  toward  these  persons 
until  a  few  moments  before  passing  the  dangerous  cur\^e  in 
the  track,  overlooking  the  North  Fork  of  the  American 
Eiver,  at  the  place  called  Cape  Horn.  As  our  readers  are 
aware,  the  road  at  this  point  skirts  a  precipice,  with  rocky 
perpendicular  sides,  extending  to  the  bed  of  the  stream, 
nearly  seventeen  hundred  feet  below.  Before  passing  the 
curve,  Parker  was  heard  to  comment  upon  the  sublimity  of 
the  scenery  they  were  approaching,  and  finally  requested  the 
old  man  to  leave  the  car  and  stand  upon  the  open  platform, 
in  order  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  the  tremendous  chasm 
and  the  mountains  just  beyond.  The  two  men  left  the  car, 
and  a  moment  afterwards  a  cry  of  horror  was  heard  by  all 
the  passengers,  and  the  old  man  was  observed  to  fall  at 
least  one  thousand  feet  upon  the  crags  below.  The  train 
was  stopped  for  a  few  moments,  but,  fearful  of  a  collision  if 
any  considerable  length  of  time  should  be  lost  in  an  un- 
availing search  for  the  mangled  remains,  it  soon  moved  on 
again,  and  proceeded  as  swiftly  as  possible  to  the  next 
station.  There  the  miscreant  Parker  was  arrested,  and  con- 
veyed to  the  office  of  the  nearest  justice  of  the  peace  for 
examination.  We  understand  that  he  refused  to  give  any 
detailed  account  of  the  transaction,  only  that  "the  deceased 
either  fell  or  was  thrown  off  from  the  moving  train." 

The  examination  was  postponed  until  the  arrival  of  Park- 
er's counsel,  O'Connell  &  Kilpatrick,  of  Grass  Valley,  and 
after  they  reached  Cape  Horn  not  a  single  word  could  be 
extracted  from  the  prisoner.  It  is  said  that  the  inquisition 
was  a  mere  farce;  there  being  no  witnesses  present  except 
one  lady  passenger,  who,  with  commendable  spirit,  volun- 
teered to  lay  over  one  day,  to  give  in  her  testimony.  We 
also  learn  that,  after  the  trial,  the  justice,  together  with  the 


The   Case  of  Sicmmerfield,  15 

prisoner  and  liis  counsel,  were  closeted  in  secret  session  for 
more  than  two  hours;  at  the  exj)iration  of  which  time  the 
judge  resumed  his  seat  upon  the  bench,  and  discharged  the 
prisoner! 

Now,  we  have  no  desire  to  do  injustice  toward  any  of  the 
l^arties  to  this  singular  transaction,  much  less  to  arm  public 
sentiment  against  an  innocent  man.  But  we  do  afiSrm  that 
there  is,  there  must  be,  some  jDrofound  mystery  at  the  bottom 
of  this  affair,  and  we  shall  do  oiu'  utmost  to  fathom  the  secret. 

Yes,  there  is  a  secret  and  mystery  connected  with  the 
disappearance  of  Summerfield,  and  the  sole  object  of  this 
communication  is  to  clear  it  up,  and  place  myself  right 
in  the  public  estimation.  But,  in  order  to  do  so,  it 
becomes  essentially  necessary  to  relate  all  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  my  first  and  subsequent  ac- 
quaintance with  Summerfield.  To  do  this  intelligibly, 
I  shall  have  to  go  back  twenty-two  years. 

It  is  well  known  amongst  my  intimate  friends  that  I 
resided  in  the  late  Republic  of  Texas  for  many  years 
antecedent  to  my  immigration  to  this  State.  During 
the  year  1847,  whilst  but  a  boy,  and  residing  on  the  sea- 
beach  some  three  or  four  miles  from  the  city  of  Galves- 
ton, Judge  Wheeler,  at  that  time  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Texas,  paid  us  a  visit,  and  brought 
with  him  a  gentleman,  whom  he  had  known  several  years 
previously  on  the  Sabine  Eiver,  in  the  eastern  part  of 
that  State.  This  gentleman  was  introduced  to  us  by  the 
name  of  Summerfield.  At  that  time  he  was  past  the 
prime  of  life,  slightly  gray,  and  inclined  to  corpulency. 
He  was  of  medium  height,  and  walked  proudly  erect,  as 
though  conscious  of  superior  mental  attainments.  His 
face  was  one  of  those  which,  once  seen,  can  never  be 
forgotten.  The  forehead  was  broad,  high,  and  pro- 
tuberant. It  was,  besides,  deeply  graven  with  wrinkles, 
and  altogether  was    the    most  intellectual  that  I  had 


1 6  Caxiojts  Book. 

ever  seen.  It  bore  some  resemblance  to  that  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  but  still  more  to  Humboldt  or  Webster. 
The  ejes  were  large,  deep-set,  and  lustrous  with  a  light 
that  seemed  kindled  in  their  own  depths.  In  color  they 
were  gray,  and  whilst  in  conversation  absolutely  blazed 
with  intellect.  His  mouth  was  large,  but  cut  with  all 
the  precision  of  a  sculptor's  chiseling.  He  was  rather 
pale,  but,  when  excited,  his  complexion  lit  up  with  a 
sudden  rush  of  ruddy  flushes,  that  added  something 
like  beauty  to  his  half -sad  and  half-sardonic  expression. 
A  word  and  a  glance  told  me  at  once,  this  is  a  most 
extraordinary  man. 

Judge  Wheeler  knew  but  little  of  the  antecedents  of 
Summerfield.  He  was  of  Northern  birth,  but  of  what 
State  it  is  impossible  to  say  definitely.  Early  in  life  he 
removed  to  the  frontier  of  Arkansas,  and  pursued  for 
some  years  the  avocation  of  village  schoolmaster.  It 
was  the  suggestion  of  Judge  Wheeler  that  induced  him 
to  read  law.  In  six  months'  time  he  had  mastered  Sto- 
ry's Equity,  and  gained  an  important  suit,  based  upon 
one  of  its  most  recondite  principles.  But  his  heart 
was  not  in  the  legal  profession,  and  he  made  almost 
constant  sallies  into  the  fields  of  science,  literature  and 
art.  He  was  a  natural  mathematician,  and  was  the  most 
profound  and  original  arithmetician  in  the  Southwest. 
He  frequently  computed  the  astronomical  tables  for  the 
almanacs  of  New  Orleans,  Pensacola  and  Mobile,  and 
calculated  eclipse,  transit  and  observations  with  ease 
and  perfect  accuracy.  He  was  also  deeply  read  in  meta- 
physics, and  wrote  and  published,  in  the  old  Demo- 
cratic Review  for  1846,  an  article  on  the  "Natural  Proof 
of  the  Existence  of  a  Deity,"  that  for  beauty  of  lan- 
guage, depth  of  reasoning,  versatility  of  illustration, 
and  compactness  of  logic,  has    never    been  equaled. 


The  Case  of  Su?n7?ter/ield.  ij 

The  only  other  publication  which  at  that  period  he  had 
made,  was  a  book  that  astonished  all  of  his  friends, 
both  in  title  and  execution.  It  was  called  "The  Des- 
peradoes of  the  West,"  and  purported  to  give  minute 
details  of  the  lives  of  some  of  the  most  noted  duelists 
and  blood-stained  villains  in  the  Western  States.  But 
the  book  belied  its  title.  It  is  full  of  splendid  descrip- 
tion and  original  thought.  No  volume  in  the  language 
contains  so  many  eloquent  passages  and  such  gorgeous 
imagery,  in  the  same  space.  His  plea  for  immortality, 
on  beholding  the  execution  of  one  of  the  most  noted 
culprits  of  Arkansas,  has  no  parallel  in  any  living  lan- 
guage for  beauty  of  diction  and  power  of  thought.  As 
my  sole  object  in  this  communication  is  to  defend  my- 
self, some  acquaintance  with  the  mental  resources  of 
Summerfield  is  absolutely  indispensable;  for  his  death 
was  the  immediate  consequence  of  his  splendid  attain- 
ments. Of  chemistry  he  was  a  complete  master.  He 
describes  it  in  his  article  on  a  Deity,  above  alluded  to, 
as  the  "  Youngest  Daughter  of  the  Sciences,  born  amid 
flames,  and  cradled  in  rollers  of  fire."  If  there  were 
any  one  science  to  which  he  was  more  specially  devoted 
than  to  any  and  all  others,  it  was  chemistry.  But  he 
really  seemed  an  adept  in  all,  and  shone  about  every- 
where with  equal  lustre.  ' 

Many  of  these  characteristics  were  mentioned  by 
Judge  Wheeler  at  the  time  of  Summerfield's  visit  to 
Galveston,  but  others  subsequently  came  to  my  knowl- 
edge, after  his  retreat  to  Brownsville,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  There  he  filled  the  position  of  judge 
of  the  District  Court,  and  such  was  his  position  just 
previous  to  his  arrival  in  this  city  in  the  month  of  Sep- 
tember of  the  past  year. 

One  day  toward  the  close  of  last  September,  an  old 
2 


1 8  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

man  rapped  at  my  office  door,  and  on  invitation  came 
in,  and  advancing,  called  me  bj  name.  Perceiving  that 
I  did  not  at  first  recognize  liim,  he  introduced  himself 
as  Gregory  Summerfield.  After  inviting  him  to  a  seat, 
I  scrutinized  his  features  more  closely,  and  quickly 
identified  him  as  the  same  person  whom  I  had  met 
twenty-two  years  before.  He  was  greatly  altered  in  ap- 
pearance, but  the  lofty  forehead  and  the  gray  eye  were 
still  there,  unchanged  and  unchangeable.  He  was  not 
quite  so  stout,  but  more  ruddy  in  complexion,  and  ex- 
hibited some  symptoms,  as  I  then  thought,  of  intem- 
perate drinking.  Still  there  was  the  old  charm  of  in- 
tellectual superiority  in  his  conversation,  and  I  wel- 
comed him  to  California  as  an  important  addition  to 
her  mental  wealth. 

It  was  not  many  minutes  before  he  requested  a  pri- 
vate interview.  He  followed  me  into  my  back  office, 
carefully  closed  the  door  after  him  and  locked  it.  We 
had  scarcely  seated  ourselves  before  he  inquired  of  me 
if  I  had  noticed  any  recent  articles  in  the  newspapers 
respecting  the  discovery  of  the  art  of  decomposing 
w^ater  so  as  to  fit  it  for  use  as  a  fuel  for  ordinary  j)ur- 
poses? 

I  replied  that  I  had  observed  nothing  new  upon  that 
subject  since  the  experiments  of  Agassiz  and  Professor 
Henry,  and  added  that,  in  my  opinion,  the  expensive 
mode  of  reduction  would  always  prevent  its  use. 

In  a  few  words  he  then  informed  me  that  he  had 
made  the  discovery  that  the  art  was  extremely  simple, 
and  the  expense  attending  the  decomposition  so  slight 
as  to  be  insignificant. 

Presuming  then  that  the  object  of  his  visit  to  me  was 
to  procure  the  necessary  forms  to  get  out  a  patent  for 
the  right,  I  congratulated  him  upon  his  good  fortune, 


The  Case  of  Summerfield.  "19 

and  was  about  to  branch  forth  with  a  description  of 
some  of  the  great  benefits  that  must  ensue  to  the  com- 
munity, when  he  suddenly  and  somewhat  uncivilly  re- 
quested me  to  "be  silent,"  and  listen  to  what  he  had 
to  say. 

He  began  with  some  general  remarks  about  the  in- 
equality of  fortune  amongst  mankind,  and  instanced 
himself  as  a  striking  example  of  the  fate  of  those  men,, 
who,  according  to  all  the  rules  of  right,  ought  to  be 
near  the  top,  instead  of  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  of 
fortune.  "But,"  said  he,  springing  to  his  feet  with 
impulsive  energy,  "I  have  now  the  means  at  my  com- 
mand of  rising  superior  to  fate,  or  of  inflicting  incalcu- 
lable ills  upon  the  whole  human  race." 

Looking  at  him  more  closely,  I  thought  I  could 
detect  in  his  eye  the  gleam  of  madness;  but  I  remained 
silent  and  awaited  further  developments.  But  my  scru- 
tiny, stolen  as  it  was,  had  been  detected,  and  he  replied 
at  once  to  the  expression  of  my  face:  "No,  sir;  I  am 
neither  drunk  nor  a  maniac;  I  am  in  deep  earnest  in  all 
that  I  say;  and  I  am  fully  prepared,  by  actual  experi- 
ment, to  demonstrate  beyond  all  doubt  the  truth  of  all 
I  claim. 

For  the  first  time  I  noticed  that  he  carried  a  small 
portmanteau  in  his  hand;  this  he  placed  upon  the  table, 
unlocked  it,  and  took  out  two  or  three  small  volumes,  a 
pamphlet  or  two,  and  a  small,  square,  wide-mouthed 
vial,  hermetically  sealed. 

I  watched  him  with  profound  curiosity,  and  took  note 
of  his  slightest  movements.  Having  arranged  his  books 
to  suit  him,  and  placed  the  vial  in  a  conspicuous  posi- 
tion, he  drew  up  his  chair  very  closely  to  my  own,  and 
uttered  in  a  half-hissing  tone:  "I  demand  one  million 
dollars  for  the  contents  of  that  bottle;  and  you  must 


20  Caxto7is  Book. 

raise  it  for  me  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco  within  one 
month,  or  scenes  too  terrible  even  for  the  imagination 
to  conceive,  will  surely  be  witnessed  by  every  living 
human  being  on  the  face  of  the  globe." 

The  tone,  the  manner,  and  the  absurd  extravagance 
of  the  demand,  excited  a  faint  smile  upon  my  lips, 
which  he  observed,  but  disdained  to  notice. 

My  mind  was  fully  made  up  that  I  had  a  maniac  to- 
deal  with,  and  I  prepared  to  act  accordingly.  But  I 
ascertained  at  once  that  my  inmost  thoughts  were  read 
by  the  remarkable  man  before  me,  and  seemed  to  be 
anticipated  by  him  in  advance  of  their  expression. 

"Perhaps,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Summerfield,  you  would 
oblige  me  by  informing  me  fully  of  the  grounds  of  your 
claim,  and  the  nature  of  your  discovery." 

"That  is  the  object  of  my  visit,"  he  replied.  "I 
claim  to  have  discovered  the  key  which  unlocks  the 
constituent  gases  of  water,  and  frees  each  from  the  em- 
brace of  the  other,  at  a  single  touch." 

"You  mean  to  assert,"  I  rejoined,  "that  you  can 
make  water  burn  itself  up  ?" 

"Nothing  more  nor  less,"  he  responded,  "except 
this:  to  insist  upon  the  consequences  of  the  secret,  if 
my  demand  be  not  at  once  complied  with." 

Then,  without  pausing  for  a  moment  to  allow  me  to 
make  a  suggestion,  as  I  once  or  twice  attempted  to  do, 
he  proceeded  in  a  clear  and  deliberate  manner,  in  these 
words:  "I  need  not  inform  you,  sir,  that  when  this- 
earth  was  created,  it  consisted  almost  wholly  of  vapor, 
which,  by  condensation,  finally  became  water.  The 
oceans  now  occupy  more  than  two  thirds  of  the  entire 
surface  of  the  globe.  The  continents  are  mere  islands 
in  the  midst  of  the  seas.  They  are  everywhere  ocean- 
bound,  and  the  hyperborean  north  is  hemmed   in  by 


The  Case  of  Su7n7}ierfield.  21 

open  polar  seas.  Such  is  my  first  proposition.  My 
second  embraces  the  constituent  elements  of  water. 
What  is  that  thing  which  we  call  water?  Chemistry, 
that  royal  queen  of  all  the  sciences,  answers  readily: 
*  Water  is  but  the  combination  of  two  gases,  oxygen  and 
hydrogen,  and  in  the  proportion  of  eight  to  one.'  In 
other  words,  in  order  to  form  water,  take  eight  parts  of 
oxygen  and  one  of  hydrogen,  mix  them  together,  and  the 
result  or  product  is  water.  You  smile,  sir,  because,  as 
you  very  properly  think,  these  are  the  elementary  prin- 
ciples of  science,  and  are  familiar  to  the  minds  of  every 
schoolboy  twelve  years  of  age.  Yes !  but  what  next  ? 
Suppose  you  take  these  same  gases  and  mix  them  in  any 
other  proportion,  I  care  not  what,  and  the  instantaneous 
result  is  heat,  flame,  combustion  of  the  intensest  descrip- 
tion. The  famous  Drummond  Light,  that  a  few  years 
ago  astonished  Europe — what  is  that  but  the  ignited 
flame  of  a  mixture  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  projected 
against  a  small  piece  of  lime  ?  What  was  harmless  as 
water,  becomes  the  most  destructive  of  all  known  objects 
when  decomposed  and  mixed  in  any  other  proportion. 
"Now,  suppose  I  fling  the  contents  of  this  small  vial 
into  the  Pacific  Ocean,  what  would  be  the  result?  Dare 
you  contemplate  it  for  an  instant?  I  do  not  assert  that 
the  entire  surface  of  the  sea  would  instantaneously 
bubble  up  into  insufi'erable  flames;  no,  but  from  the 
nucleus  of  a  circle,  of  which  this  vial  would  be  the 
centre,  lurid  radii  of  flames  would  gradually  shoot  out- 
ward, until  the  blazing  circumference  would  roll  in  vast 
billows  of  fire,  upon  the  uttermost  shores.  Not  all  the 
dripping  clouds  of  the  deluge  could  extinguish  it.  Not 
all  the  tears  of  saints  and  angels  could  for  an  instant 
check  its  progress.  On  and  onward  it  would  sweep, 
with  the  steady  gait  of  destiny,  until  the  continents  would 


2  2  Cax ton's  Book. 

melt  with  fervent  heat,  the  atmosphere  glare  with  the 
ominous  conflagration,  and  all  living  creatures,  in  land 
and  sea  and  air,  perish  in  one  universal  catastrophe." 

Then  suddenly  starting  to  his  feet,  he  drew  himself 
up  to  his  full  height,  and  murmured  solemnly,  *'  I  feel 
like  a  God !  and  I  recognize  my  fellow-men  but  as  pig- 
mies that  I  spurn  beneath  my  feet." 

"  Summerfield,"  s'aid  I  calmly,  "  there  must  be  some 
strange  error  in  all  this.  You  are  self-deluded.  The 
weapon  which  you  claim  to  wield  is  one  that  a  good 
God  and  a  beneficent  Creator  would  never  intrust  to  the 
keeping  of  a  mere  creature.  What,  sir!  create  a  world 
as  grand  and  beautiful  as  this,  and  hide  within  its 
bosom  a  principle  that  at  any  moment  might  inwrap  it 
in  flames,  and  sink  all  life  in  death  ?  I'll  not  believe  it; 
'twere  blasphemy  to  entertain  the  thought!" 

"And  yet,"  cried  he  passionately,  "your  Bible 
prophesies  the  same  irreverence.  Look  at  your  text  in  2d 
Peter,  third  chapter,  seventh  and  twelfth  verses.  Are  not 
the  elements  to  melt  with  fervent  heat  ?  Are  not  '  the 
heavens  to  be  folded  together  like  a  scroll  ? '  Are  not  '  the 
rocks  to  melt,  the  stars  to  fall  and  the  moon  to  be 
turned  into  blood?'  Is  not  fire  the  next  grand  cyclic 
consummation  of  all  things  here  below?  But  I  come 
fully  prepared  to  answer  such  objections.  Your  argu- 
ment betrays  a  narrow  mind,  circumscribed  in  its  orbit, 
and  shallow  in  its  depth.  'Tis  the  common  thought  of 
mediocrity.  You  have  read  books  too  much,  and 
studied  nature  too  little.  Let  me  give  you  a  lesson 
to-day  in  the  workshop  of  Omnipotence.  Take  a  stroll 
with  me  into  the  limitless  confines  of  space,  and  let  us 
observe  together  some  of  the  scenes  transpiring  at  this 
very  instant  around  us.  A  moment  ago  you  spoke 
of  the  moon:  what  is  she  but  an  extinguished  world? 


The   Case  of  Simtmerfield.  23 

You  spoke  of  the  sun:  what  is  lie  but  a  globe  of  flame? 
But  here  is  the  Cosmos  of  Humboldt.  Eeacl  this 
paragraph." 

As  he  said  this  he  placed  before  me  the  Cosmos  of 
Humboldt,  and  I  read  as  follows : 

Nor  do  the  Heavens  themselves  teach  unchangeable 
permanency  in  the  works  of  creation.  Change  is  observable 
there  quite  as  rapid  and  complete  as  in  the  confines  of  our 
solar  system.  In  the  year  1752,  one  of  the  small  stars  in 
the  constellation  Cassiopeia  blazed  up  suddenly  into  an 
orb  of  the  first  magnitude,  gradually  decreased  in  brilliancy, 
and  finally  disapjDeared  from  the  skies.  Nor  has  it  ever 
been  visible  since  that  period  for  a  single  moment,  either 
to  the  eye  or  to  the  telescope.  It  burned  up  and  was  lost 
in  sjoace. 

"Humboldt,"  he  added,  "has  not  told  us  who  set 
that  world  on  fire ! 

"But,"  resumed   he,   "I  have  still   clearer  proofs." 

Sa^dng  this,  he  thrust  into  my  hands  the  last  London 

Quarterhj,  and  on  opening  the  book  at  an  article  headed 

"  The  Language  of  Light,"  I  read  with  a  feeling  akin  to 

awe,  the  following  passage: 

Further,  some  stars  exhibit  changes  of  complexion  in 
themselves.  Sirius,  as  before  stated,  was  once  a  ruddy,  or 
rather  a  fiery-faced  orb,  but  has  now  forgotten  to  blush,  and 
looks  down  upon  us  with  a  pure,  brilliant  smile,  in  which 
there  is  no  trace  either  of  anger  or  of  shame.  On  the  coun- 
tenances of  others,  still  more  varied  traits  have  rippled, 
within  a  much  briefer  period  of  time.  May  not  these  be  due 
to  some  physiological  revolutions,  general  or  convulsive, 
which  are  in  j^rogress  in  the  particular  orb,  and  which,  by 
affecting  the  constitution  of  its  atmosphere,  compel  the 
absorption  or  promote  the  transmission  of  particular  rays  ? 
The  sujDposition  appears  by  no  means  improbable,  especially 
if  we  call  to  mind  the  hj^drogen  volcanoes  which  have  been 
discovered  on  the  photosphere  of  the  sun.  Indeed,  there 
are  a  few  small  stars  which  afford  a  spectrum  of  bright  lines 
instead  of  dark  ones,  and  this  we  know  denotes  a  gaseous 
or  vaporized  state  of  things,  from  which  it  may  be  inferred 
that  such  orbs  are  in  a  different  condition  from  most  of 
their  relations. 


24  Caxton  s  Book. 

And  as,  if  for  the  very  purpose  of  throwing  light  upon 
this  interesting  question,  an  event  of  the  most  striking  char- 
acter occurred  in  the  heavens,  ahnost  as  soon  as  the  si^ec- 
troscojiists  were  prepared  to  interpret  it  correctly. 

On  the  12tli  of  Ma}^  1866,  a  great  conflagration,  infinitely 
larger  than  that  of  London  or  Moscow,  was  aniiounced. 
To  use  the  exjiression  of  a  distinguished  astronomer,  a  world 
was  found  to  be  on  fire!  A  star,  which  till  then  had  shone 
weakly  and  imobtrusively  in  the  corona  horeali%,  suddenly 
blazed  up  into  a  luminar}^  of  the  second  magnitude.  In 
the  course  of  three  days  from  its  discovery  in  this  new 
character,  by  Birmingham,  at  Tuam,  it  had  declined  to 
the  third  or  fourth  order  of  brilliancy.  In  twelve  days, 
dating  from  its  first  apparition  in  the  Irish  heavens,  it  had 
sunk  to  the  eighth  rank,  and  it  went  on  waning  until  the 
26th  of  June,  when  it  ceased  to  be  discernible  except 
through  the  medium  of  the  telescope.  This  was  a  remark- 
able, though  certainly  not  an  unprecedented  proceeding  on 
the  part  of  a  star;  but  one  singular  circumstance  in  its  be- 
havior was  that,  after  the  lajDse  of  nearly  two  months,  it 
began  to  blaze  up  again,  though  not  with  equal  ardor,  and 
after  maintaining  its  glow  for  a  few  weeks,  and  passing- 
through  sundry  j)hases  of  color,  it  gradually  paled  its  fires, 
and  returned  to  its  former  insignificance.  How  many  years 
had  elapsed  since  this  awful  conflagration  actually-  took 
place,  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  guess;  but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  news  from  the  heavens,  though  carried  by 
the  fleetest  of  messengers,  light,  reaches  us  long  after  the 
event  has  transpired,  and  that  the  same  celestial  carrier  is 
still  drojDping  the  tidings  at  each  station  it  reaches  in  sj)ace, 
until  it  sinks  exhausted  by  the  length  of  its  flight. 

As  the  star  had  suddenly  flamed  up,  was  it  not  a  natural 
supposition  that  it  had  become  inwrajDped  in  burning  hy- 
drogen, which  in  consequence  of  some  great  convulsion  had 
been  liberated  in  prodigious  quantities,  and  then  combin- 
ing with  other  elements,  had  set  this  hapless  world  on  fire? 
In  such  a  fierce  conflagration,  the  combustible  gas  would 
soon  be  consumed,  and  the  glow  would  therefore  begin  to 
decline,  subject,  as  in  this  case,  to  a  second  eruption,  Avbich 
occasioned  the  renewed  outburst  of  light  on  the  20th  of 
August. 

By  such  a  catastrophe,  it  is  not  wholly  impossible  that  our 
own  globe  may  some  time  be  ravaged;  for  if  a  word  from  the 


The  Case  of  StLniinerfield.  25 

Almight}'  were  to  unloose  for  a  few  moments  the  bonds  of 
affinity  which  unite  the  elements  of  water,  a  single  spark 
would  bring-  them  together  with  a  fury  that  would  kindle 
the  funeral  pyre  of  the  human  race,  and  be  fatal  to  the 
planet  and  all  the  works  that  are  thereon. 

"Your  argument,"  he  then  instantly  added,  "  is  by 
no  means  a  good  one.  What  do  we  know  of  the  Su- 
preme Architect  of  the  Universe,  or  of  Lis  designs? 
He  builds  up  worlds,  and  he  pulls  them  down;  he  kin- 
dles suns  and  he  extinguishes  them.  He  inflames  the 
comet,  in  one  portion  of  its  orbit,  with  a  heat  that  no 
liuman  imagination  can  conceive  of;  and  in  another, 
subjects  the  same  blazing  orb  to  a  cold  intenser  than 
that  which  invests  forever  the  antarctic  pole,.  All  that 
we  know  of  Him  we  gather  through  His  works.  I  have 
shown  you  that  He  burns  other  worlds,  why  not  this  ? 
The  habitable  parts  of  our  globe  are  surrounded  by 
water,  and  water  yon  know  is  fire  in  possibility." 

"But  all  this,"  I  rejoined,  "is  pure,  baseless,  profit- 
less speculation." 

"Not  so  fast,"  he  answered.  And  then  rising,  he 
seized  the  small  vial,  and  handing  it  to  me,  requested 
me  to  open  it. 

I  confess  I  did  so  with  some  trepidation. 

"Now  smell  it." 

I  did  so. 

"What  odor  do  you  perceive?" 

"Potassium,"  I  replied. 

"Of  course,"  he  added,  "you  are  familiar  with  the 
chief  characteristic  of  that  substance.  It  ignites  in- 
stantly when  brought  in  contact  with  water.  Within 
that  little  globule  of  potassium,  I  have  imbedded  a  pill 
of  my  own  composition  and  discovery.  The  moment  it 
is  liberated  from  the  potassium,  it  commences  the  work 
of  decomposing  the  fluid  on  which  it  floats.     The  po- 


2  6  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

tassium  at  once  ignites  the  liberated  oxygen,  and  the- 
conflagration  of  this  mighty  globe  is  begun." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "  begun,  if  you  please,  but  your  little 
pill  soon  evaporates  or  sinks,  or  melts  in  the  surround- 
ing seas,  and  your  conflagration  ends  just  where  it 
began." 

"My  reply  to  that  suggestion  could  be  made  at  once 
by  simply  testing  the  experiment  on  a  small  scale,  or  a 
large  one,  either.  But  I  prefer  at  present  to  refute 
.your  proposition  by  an  argument  drawn  from  nature 
herself.  If  you  correctly  remember,  the  first  time  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  was  on  the  island  of  Gal- 
veston, manj^  years  ago.  Do  you  remember  relating  to 
me  at  that  time  an  incident  concerning  the  efi'ects  of  a 
prairie  on  fire,  that  you  had  yourself  witnessed  but  a 
few  days  previously,  near  the  town  of  Matagorde  ?  If 
I  recollect  correctly,  you  stated  that  on  your  return 
journey  from  that  place,  you  passed  on  the  way  the 
charred  remains  of  two  wagon-loads  of  cotton,  and 
three  human  beings,  that  the  night  before  had  perished 
in  the  flames;  that  three  slaves,  the  property  of  a  Mr. 
Horton,  had  started  a  few  days  before  to  carry  to  mar- 
ket a  shipment  of  cotton;  that  a  norther  overtook  them 
on  the  treeless  prairie,  and  a  fcAV  minutes  afterwards 
they  were  surprised  by  beholding  a  line  of  rushing  fire, 
surging,  roaring  and  advancing  like  the  resistless  bil- 
lows of  an  ocean  swept  by  a  gale;  that  there  was  no 
time  for  escape,  and  they  perished  terribly  in  fighting 
the  devouring  element?" 

"  Yes ;  I  recollect  the  event." 

"Now,  then,  I  wish  a  reply  to  the  simple  question: 
Pid  the  single  spark,  that  kindled  the  conflagration,  con- 
sume the  negroes  and  their  charge?  No?  But  what 
did  ?    You  reply,  of  course,  that  the  spark  set  the  en- 


The   Case  of  Suminei'field.  27 

tire  prairie  on  fire ;  that  eacli  spear  of  grass  added  fuel 
to  the  flame,  and  kindled  bj  degrees  a  conflagration 
that  continued  to  burn  so  long  as  it  could  feed  on  fresh 
material.  The  pillule  in  that  vial  is  the  little  spark, 
the  oceans  are  the  prairies,  and  the  oxygen  the  fuel 
upon  which  the  fire  is  to  feed  until  the  globe  perishes 
in  inextinguishable  flames.  The  elementary  substances 
in  that  small  vial  recreate  themselves ;  they  are  self- 
generating,  and  when  once  fairly  under  way  must  neces- 
sarily sweep  onward,  until  the  waters  in  all  the  seas  are 
exhausted.  There  is,  however,  one  great  difi'erence  be- 
tween the  burning  of  a  prairie  and  the  combustion  of  an 
ocean  :  the  fire  in  the  first  spreads  slowly,  for  the  fuel 
is  difiicult  to  ignite  ;  in  the  last,  it  flies  with  the  rapid- 
ity of  the  wind,  for  the  substance  consumed  is  oxygen^ 
the  most  inflammable  agent  in  nature." 

Rising  from  my  seat,  I  went  to  the  washstaud  in  the- 
corner  of  the  apartment,  and  drawing  a  bowl  half  full 
of  Spring  Valley  water,  I  turned  to  Summerfield,  and  • 
remarked,    "Words  are  empty,  theories  are  ideal  —  but 
facts  are  things." 

"I  take  you  at  your  word."  So  saj^ing,  he  approached 
the  bowl,  emptied  it  of  nine-tenths  of  its  contents,  and 
silently  dropped  the  potassium  -  coated  pill  into  the 
liquid.  The  potassium  danced  around  the  edges  of  the 
vessel,  fuming,  hissing,  and  blazing,  as  it  always  does, 
and  seemed  on  the  point  of  expiring  —  when,  to  my  as- 
tonishment and  alarm,  a  sharp  explosion  took  place,  and 
in  a  second  of  time  the  water  was  blazing  in  a  red,  lurid 
column,  half  way  to  the  ceiling. 

"For  God's  sake,"  I  cried,  " extinguish  the  flames,, 
or  we  shall  set  the  building  on  fire !" 

"Had  I  dropped  the  potassium  into  the  bowl  as  you 
prepared  it,"  he  quietly  remarked,  "the  building  would 
indeed  have  been  consumed." 


:2  8  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

Lower  and  lower  fell  the  flickering  flames,  paler  and 
paler  grew  the  blaze,  until  finally  the  fh-e  went  out,  and 
I  rushed  up  to  see  the  effects  of  the  combustion. 

Not  a  drop  of  water  remained  in  the  vessel!  Aston- 
ished beyond  measure  at  what  I  had  witnessed,  and 
terrified  almost  to  the  verge  of  insanity,  I  approached 
Summerfield,  and  tremblingly  inquired,  "To  Avhom, 
sir,  is  this  tremendous  secret  known?"  "To  myself 
alone,"  he  responded;  "and  now  answer  me  a  ques- 
tion: is  it  worth  the  money?" 

*  ^  ^  H:  ^  Hz  'k 

It  is  entirely  unnecessary  to  relate  in  detail  the  sub- 
sequent events  connected  with  this  transaction.  I  will 
only  add  a  general  statement,  showing  the  results  of  my 
negotiations.  Having  fully  satisfied  myself  that  Sum- 
merfield actually  held  in  his  hands  the  fate  of  the  whole 
world,  with  its  millions  of  human  beings,  and  by  experi- 
ment having  tested  the  combustion  of  sea-water,  with 
equal  facility  as  fresh,  I  next  deemed  it  my  duty  to  call 
the  attention  of  a  few  of  the  principal  men  in  San  Fran- 
cisco to  the  extreme  importance  of  Summerfield's  dis- 
covery. 

A  leading  banker,  a  bishop,  a  chemist,  two  State 
university  professors,  a  physician,  a  judge,  and  two 
Protestant  divines,  were  selected  by  me  to  witness  the 
experiment  on  a  large  scale.  This  was  done  at  a  small 
sand-hill  lake,  near  the  sea-shore,  but  separated  from  it 
by  a  ridge  of  lofty  moiintains,  distant  not  more  than  ten 
miles  from  San  Francisco.  Every  single  drop  of  water 
in  the  pool  was  burnt  up  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes. 
"We  next  did  all  that  we  could  to  pacify  Summerfield, 
and  endeavored  to  induce  him  to  lower  his  price  and 
bring  it  within  the  bovinds  of  a  reasonable  possibility. 
Put  without  avail.      He  began  to  grow  urgent  in  his 


The   Case  of  Szunmerfield.  29 

demands,  and  his  brow  would  cloud  like  a  tempest- 
ridden  sky  whenever  we  approached  him  on  the  subject. 
Finally,  ascertaining  that  no  persuasion  could  soften 
his  heart  or  touch  his  feelings,  a  sub-committee  was  ap- 
pointed, to  endeavor,  if  possible,  to  raise  the  money  by 
subscription.  Before  taking  that  step,  however,  we  as- 
certained beyond  all  question  that  Summerfield  was  the 
sole  custodian  of  his  dread  secret,  and  that  he  kept  no 
written  memorial  of  the  formula  of  his  prescription. 
He  even  went  so  far  as  to  offer  us  a  penal  bond  that  his- 
secret  should  perish  with  him  in  case  we  complied  with 
his  demands. 

The  sub-committee  soon  commenced  work  amongst 
the  wealthiest  citizens  of  San  Francisco,  and  by  ap- 
pealing to  the  terrors  of  a  few,  and  the  sympathies  of 
all,  succeeded  in  raising  one  half  the  amount  within  the 
prescribed  period.  I  shall  never  forget  the  woe-begone- 
faces  of  California  Street  during  the  month  of  October. 
The  outside  world  and  the  newspapers  spoke  most  learn- 
edly of  a  money  panic — a  pressure  in  business,  and  the 
disturbances  in  the  New  York  gold-room.  But  to  the 
initiated,  there  was  an  easier  solution  of  the  enigma. 
The  pale  spectre  of  Death  looked  down  upon  them  all, 
and  pointed  with  its  bony  finger  to  the  fiery  tomb  of 
the  whole  race,  already  looming  up  in  the  distance  be- 
fore them.  Day  after  day,  I  could  see  the  dreadful 
ravages  of  this  secret  horror;  doubly  terrible,  since 
they  dared  not  divulge  it.  Still,  do  all  that  we  could^ 
the  money  could  not  be  obtained.  The  day  preceding 
the  last  one  given,  Summerfield  was  summoned  before 
the  committee,  and  full  information  given  him  of  the 
state  of  affairs.  Obdurate,  hard  and  cruel,  he  still  con- 
tinued. Finally,  a  proposition  was  started,  that  an 
attempt  should  be  made  to  raise  the  other  half  of  the 


2)0  ■  Caxton  s  Book. 

money  in  the  city  of  New  York.  To  this  proposal  Sum- 
merfield  ultimately  yielded,  but  with  extreme  reluc- 
tance. It  was  agreed  in  committee,  that  I  should 
xiccompany  him  thither,  and  take  with  me,  in  my  own 
possession,  evidences  of  the  sums  subscribed  here;  that 
-a  proper  appeal  should  be  made  to  the  leading  capital- 
ists, scholars  and  clergymen  of  that  metropolis,  and 
that,  when  the  whole  amount  was  raised,  it  should  be 
paid  over  to  Summerfield,  and  a  bond  taken  from  him 
never  to  divulge  his  awful  secret  to  any  human  being. 

With  this,  he  seemed  to  be  satisfied,  and  left  us  to 
prepare  for  his  going  the  next  morning. 

As  soon  as  he  left  the  apartment,  the  bishop  arose, 
iind  "deprecated  the  action  that  had  been  taken,  and 
characterized  it  as  childish  and  absurd.  He  declared 
that  no  man  was  safe  one  moment  whilst  "that  dia- 
bolical wretch"  still  lived;  that  the  only  security  for  us 
all,  was  in  his  immediate  extirpation  from  the  face  of 
the  earth,  and  that  no  amount  of  money  could  seal  his 
lips,  or  close  his  hands.  It  would  be  no  crime,  he  said, 
to  deprive  him  of  the  means  of  assassinating  the  whole 
human  family,  and  that  as  for  himself  he  was  for  doom- 
ing him  to  immediate  death. 

With  a  unanimity  that  was  extraordinary,  the  entire 
-committee  coincided. 

A  great  many  plans  were  proposed,  discussed  and 
rejected,  having  in  view  the  extermination  of  Summer- 
field.  In  them  all  there  was  the  want  of  that  proper 
caution  which  would  lull  the  apprehensions  of  an  ene- 
my; for  should  he  for  an  instant  suspect  treachery,  we 
knew  his  nature  well  enough  to  be  satisfied,  that  he 
would  waive  all  ceremonies  and  carry  his  threats  into 
immediate  execution. 

It  was  finally  resolved   that   the   trip  to  New  York 


The   Case  of  Summerfield.  31 

:'shoulcl  not  be  abandoned,  apparent!}'.  But  that  we 
were  to  start  out  in  accordance  with  the  original  pro- 
gramme; that  during  the  journey,  some  proper  means 
should  be  resorted  to  by  me  to  carry  out  the  final  inten- 
tions of  the  committee,  and  that  whatever  I  did  would 
be  sanctioned  by  them  all,  and  full  protection,  both  in 
law  and  conscience,  afibrded  me  in  any  stage  of  the  pro- 
-ceeding. 

Nothing  was  wanting  but  my  own  consent;  but  this 
was  difficult  to  secure. 

At  the  first  view,  it  seemed  to  be  a  most  horrible  and 
unwarrantable  crime  to  deprive  a  fellow-being  of  life, 
under  any  circumstances;  but  especially  so  where,  in 
meeting  his  fate,  no  opportunity  was  to  be  afibrded  him 
for  preparation  or  repentance.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore I  could  disassociate,  in  my  mind,  the  two  ideas  of 
act  and  intent.  My  studies  had  long  ago  made  me  per- 
fectly familiar  with  the  doctrine  of  the  civil  law,  that 
in  order  to  constitute  guilt,  there  must  be  a  union  of 
action  and  intention.  Taking  the  property  of  another 
is  not  theft,  unless,  as  the  lawyers  term  it,  there  is  the 
■animus  furandi.  So,  in  homicide,  life  may  be  lawfully 
taken  in  some  instances,  whilst  the  deed  may  be  ex- 
cused in  others.  The  sherift"  hangs  the  felon,  and  de- 
prives him  of  existence;  yet  nobody  thinks  of  accusing 
the  officer  of  murder.  The  soldier  slays  his  enemy, 
still  the  act  is  considered  heroical.  It  does  not  there- 
fore follow  that  human  life  is  too  sacred  to  be  taken 
away  under  all  circumstances.  The  point  to  be  con- 
sidered was  thus  narrowed  down  into  one  grand  inquiry, 
whether  Summerfield  was  properly  to  be  regarded  as 
hoslis  hiimani  generis  the  enemy  of  the  human  race  or 
not.  If  he  should  justly  be  so  considered,  then  it 
would  not  only  be  not  a  crime  to  kill  him,  but  an  act 


32  Caxtons  Book. 

worthy  of  the  highest  commendation.  Who  blamed 
McKenzie  for  hanging  Spencer  to  the  yard-arm  ?  Yet  in 
his  case,  the  lives  of  only  a  small  ship's  crew  were  ia 
jeopardy.  Who  condemned  Pompey  for  exterminating 
the  pirates  from  the  Adriatic?  Yet,  in  his  case,  only 
a  small  portion  of  the  Eoman  Republic  was  liable  to 
devastation.  Who  accuses  Charlotte  Corday  of  assassi- 
nation for  stabbing  Murat  in  his  bath?  Still,  her  arm 
only  saved  the  lives  of  a  few  thousands  of  revolutionary 
Frenchmen.  And  to  come  down  to  our  OAvn  times,  who 
heaps  accusation  upon  the  heads  of  Lincoln,  Thomas 
or  Sheridan,  or  even  Grant,  though  in  marching  to  vic- 
tory over  a  crushed  rebellion,  they  deemed  it  neces- 
sary to  wade  through  seas  of  human  gore?  If  society- 
has  the  right  to  defend  itself  from  the  assaults  of  crimi- 
nals, who,  at  best,  can  only  destroy  a  few  of  its  members, 
why  should  I  hesitate  when  it  was  apparent  that  tha 
destiny  of  the  globe  itself  huug  in  the  balance?  If 
Summerfield  should  live  and  carry  out  his  threats,  the 
whole  world  would  feel  the  shock;  his  death  was  the 
only  path  to  perfect  safety. 

I  asked  the  privilege  of  meditation  for  one  hour,  at 
the  hands  of  the  committee,  before  I  would  render  a 
decision  either  way.  During  that  recess  the  above 
argumentation  occupied  my  thoughts.  The  time  ex- 
pired, and  I  again  presented  myself  before  them.  I 
did  not  deem  it  requisite  to  state  the  grounds  of  my 
decision;  I  briefly  signified  my  assent,  and  made  in- 
stant preparation  to  carry  the  plan  into  execution. 

Having  passed  on  the  line  of  the  Pacific  Eailway 
more  than  once,  I  was  perfectly  familiar  with  all  of  it& 
windings,  gorges  and  precipices. 

I  selected  Cape  Horn  as  the  best  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose, and     .     .     .     the  public  knows  the  rest. 


The  Case  of  Summerjield.  33 

Having  been  fully  acquitted  by  two  tribunals  of  the 
law,  I  make  tliis  final  appeal  to  my  fellow-men  through- 
out the  State,  and  ask  them  confidently  not  to  reverse 
the  judgments  already  pronoiinced. 

I  am  conscious  of  no  guilt;  I  feel  no  remorse;  I  need 
no  repentance.  For  me  justice  has  no  terrors,  and  con- 
science no  sting.  Let  me  be  judged  solely  by  the 
motives  which  actuated  me,  and  the  importance  of  the 
end  accomplished,  and  I  shall  pass,  unscathed,  both 
temporal  and  eternal  tribunals. 

Leonidas  Parker. 


II. 

THE  MERCHANT'S  EXCHANGE. 

/^NE  summer  eve,  as  homeward  saunt'ring  slowly, 
^^     My  toils  and  tasks  for  that  day's  business  done; 
With  thoughts  eomj)osed,  and  aspirations  holy. 

That  heavenward  rose,  as  downward  sank  the  sun, 
I  heard  a  throng,  whose  multitudinous  voices 

Proclaimed  some  act  of  public  weal  begun. 

The  glad  acclaim  invited  close  inspection; 

And  tlirough  the  crowd  I  gently  made  my  way. 
Till,  standing  firm  upon  a  light  projection, 

That  sj)anned  a  chasm  dug  deep  into  the  clay, 
I  heard  above  the  din  of  city  noises. 

An  honored  voice,  in  solemn  accents  say: 

"  In  presence  of  Creation's  awful  Builder, 
I  lay  for  you  this  polished  corner-stone; 

God  grant  no  ills  your  architect  bewilder 

Till  into  strength  and  beauty  shall  have  grown 

The  Merchant's  'Change  that  shall  adorn  your  Guilder 
When  ye  have  mouldered  into  dust  and  bone!  " 

Day  after  day,  whilst  passing  to  my  labor, 

I  saw  that  gorgeous  edifice  arise;  ^ 

Until  its  dome,  like  crest  of  sacred  Tabor, 

Sprang  from  the  earth,  and  arching  in  the  skies, 

O'ertopp'd  the  peak  of  each  aspiring  neighbor 
That  wooed  a  tribute  from  the  upturned  eyes. 

There  was  no  joomp  of  pious  declicatiou. 
Boasting  this  Temple  sanctified  to  God; 


The  Merchant' s  Exchange,  35 

And  yet  my  soul,  in  prayerful  meditation, 
Believed  no  less  it  might  be  His  abode : 

For  when  His  arm  from  bondage  led  a  nation, 
He  heard  their  cry,  though  kneeling  on  the  sod! 

Around  this  mart  the  world's  great  trade  shall  centre; 

"Within  these  walls  a  Babel  tumult  sound, 
Not  that  which  made  doomed  Shinar  a  memento 

Of  human  pride  laid  level  to  the  ground, 
But  blended  music  of  all  tongues  shall  enter. 

And  in  trade's  peaceful  symphonies  resound! 

Above  this  portal  shall  no  monarch  thunder, 

No  grand  patrician  lord  it  o'er  a  slave; 
Here  shall  the  pagan's  bonds  be  snapt  asunder, 

And  creed  and  race  no  proud  distinction  crave; 
Here  shall  mankind  their  shackles  trample  under, 

And  freedom's  banner  over  freemen  wave! 

Here  shall  Confucius  braid  his  ebon  tresses, 

Perfume  the  cup  with  aromatic  teas, 
Supply  gay  beauty  with  her  gaudiest  dresses, — 

The  worm's  fine  fabric,  and  the  Bactrian  fleece; 
And  in  exchange  shall  quaff  a  balm  that  blesses, 

Freedom  and  truth,  in  eveiy  passing  breeze! 

Here  Kamehameha  realize  the  splendor 

Foretold  by  sirens,  singing  'round  his  isles, 

How  cane  and  pulu  be  the  realm's  defender. 
And  roof  his  palaces  with  golden  tiles; — 

"When  sturdy  Saxons  should  their  hearts  surrender 
In  captive  bonds  to  coy  Kanaka  wiles! 

Here  Petropaulowski  store  her  richest  sables, 

Tahiti  waft  her  oranges  and  limes, 
The  Lascar  weave  his  stout  manila  cables, 

The  Malay  chafler  midst  his  porcelain  chimes, 
Ceylon  with  spices  scent  our  groaning  tables. 

Pariah  bring  Golconda's  gems,  not  crimes; 


36  Caxto7is  Book. 

Beneath  this  dome  the  Tycoon's  gory  dragon 
Shall  fold  his  wings,  and  close  his  fiery  eyes; 

Here  quaffing  from  the  same  enchanted  flagon, 
Fraternal  incense  shall  to  Heaven  arise; 

Whilst  Vishnu,  Thor,  Jehovah,  Bhudd,  and  Dagon,, 
Shall  cease  all  strife,  and  struggle  for  the  prize ! 

Oh!  tell  me  not  the  Christian's  God  will  thunder, 
And  rock  these  hills,  with  unforgiving  ire; 

By  storm  or  earthquake  rend  the  globe  asunder, 
And  quench  His  wrath  in  everliving  fire — ■ 

"When  He  beholds  on  earth  so  strange  a  wonder. 
All  peoples  kneeling  to  a  common  Sire ! 

Prophets  and  priests  have  from  primeval  ages 
Drenched  all  mankind  in  seas  of  human  gore; 

Jurists  and  statesmen,  orators  and  sages, 

Have  deepened  gulfs,  which  boundless  were  before;. 

The  merchant  sails,  where'er  an  ocean  rages, 
Bridges  its  depths,  and  throws  the  Eainhow  o'er! 

All  hail!  ye  founders  of  Pacific's  glory, 

"Who  serve  bold  Commerce  at  his  mightiest  shrine : 

Your  names  shall  live  in  endless  song  and  story. 
When  black  Oblivion  flings  her  pall  o'er  mine; 

And  when  these  walls  shall  totter,  quaint  and  hoary. 
Bards  still  shall  sing,  your  mission  was  Divine! 


III. 

THE  DESERTED  SCHOOLHOUSE. 

"  Oh!  never  may  a  son  of  thine, 
Where'er  his  wand 'ring  steps  incline, 
Forget  the  sky  which  bent  above 
His  childhood,  like  a  dream  of  love," 

— Whittiee. 

THEPiE  is  no  silence  like  that  sombre  gloom  which 
sometimes  settles  down  upon  the  deserted  play- 
grounds, the  unoccupied  benches,  and  the  voiceless  halls 
of  an  old  schoolhouse.  But  if,  in  addition  to  abandon- 
ment, the  fingers  of  decay  have  been  busy  with  their 
work;  if  the  moss  has  been  permitted  to  grow,  and  the 
mould  to  gather;  if  the  cobwebs  cluster,  like  clouds,  in 
all  the  corners,  aud  the  damp  dustincrusts  the  wdndow- 
panes  like  the  frosts  of  a  northern  winter;  if  the  old  well 
has  caved  in,  and  the  little  paths  through  the  brushwood 
been  smothered,  and  the  fences  rotted  down,  and  the 
stile  gone  to  ruin,  then  a  feeling  of  utter  desolation  seizes 
upon  the  soul,  which  no  philosophy  can  master,  no 
recollections  soothe,  and  no  lapse  of  time  dissipate. 

Perchance  a  lonely  wanderer  ma}'  be  observed,  travers- 
ing the  same  scenes  which  many  years  ago  were  trodden 
by  his  ungrown  feet,  looking  pensively  at  each  tree 
which  sheltered  his  boyhood,  peeping  curiously  under 
the  broken  benches  on  which  he  once  sat,  and  turning 
over  most  carefully  with  his  cane  every  scrap  of  old 
paper,  that  strangely  enough  had  survived  the  winds  and 
the  rains  of  many  winters. 


38  Caxton  s  Book. 

Such  a  schoolliouse  now  stands  near  the  little  village 
of  Woodville,  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina,  and  such 
a  wanderer  was  I  in  the  autumn  of  1852. 

Woodville  was  the  scene  of  my  first  studies,  my  earliest 
adventures,  and  my  nascent  loves.  There  I  was  taught 
to  read  and  write,  to  swim  and  skate,  to  wrestle  and  box, 
to  play  marbles  and  make  love.  There  I  fought  my  first 
fight,  had  the  mumps  and  the  measles,  stole  my  first 
watermelon,  and  received  my  first  flogging.  And  I  can 
never  forget,  that  within  that  tattered  schoolroom  my 
young  heart  first  swelled  with  those  budding  passions, 
whose  full  development  in  others  has  so  often  changed 
the  fortunes  of  the  world.  There  eloquence  produced 
its  first  throb,  ambition  struck  its  first  spark,  pride 
mounted  its  first  stilts,  love  felt  its  first  glow.  There  the 
eternal  ideas  of  God  and  heaven,  of  patriotism  and 
country,  of  love  and  woman,  germinated  in  my  bosom;, 
and  there,  too,  Poesy  sang  her  first  song  in  my  eiichanted 
ear,  lured  me  far  off  into  the  "grand  old  woods"  alone, 
sported  with  the  unlanguaged  longings  of  my  boyish 
heart,  and  subdued  me  for  the  first  time  with  that  mys- 
terious sorrow,  whose  depths  the  loftiest  intellect  cannot 
so  and,  and  yet  whose  wailings  mournfully  agitate  many 
a  schoolbo^^'s  breast. 

I  reached  the  village  of  Woodville  one  afternoon  in 
November,  after  an  absence  of  twenty-two  years.  Strange 
faces  greeted  me,  instead  of  old,  familiar  ones;  huge 
dwellings  stood  where  once  I  had  rambled  through  corn- 
fields, groves  of  young  pines  covered  the  old  common  in 
which  I  had  once  played  at  ball,  and  everything  around 
presented  such  an  aspect  of  change,  that  I  almost  doubted 
my  personal  identity.  Nor  was  my  astonishment  dimin- 
ished in  the  slightest  degree  when  the  landlord  of  the 
inn  announced  his  name,  and  I  recognized  it  as  once 


The  Deserted  Schoolhouse.  39 

belonging  to  a  playmate  famous  for  mischief  and  ileet- 
ness.  Now  he  appeared  bloated,  languid,  and  prema- 
turely old.  Bush}'  whiskers  nearly  covered  his  face,  a 
horrid  gash  almost  closed  up  one  of  his  eyes,  and  an 
ominous  limp  told  that  he  would  run  no  more  foot-races 
forever. 

Unwilling  to  provoke  inquiries  by  mentioning  my  own 
name,  and  doubly  anxious  to  see  the  old  schoolhouse, 
which  I  had  traveled  many  miles  out  of  my  way  to  visit, 
I  took  my  cane  and  strolled  leisurely  along  the  road  that 
my  feet  had  hurried  over  so  often  in  boyhood. 

The  schoolhouse  Avas  situated  in  a  small  grove  of  oaks 
and  hickories,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  village,  so  as  to 
be  more  retired,  but  at  the  same  time  more  convenient 
for  those  who  resided  in  the  country.  My  imagination 
flew  faster  than  my  steps,  and  under  its  influence  the 
half  mile  dwindled  to  a  mere  rod.  Passing  a  turn  in 
the  road,  wdiich  concealed  it  until  within  a  few  paces,  it 
suddenly  burst  upon  my  vision  in  all  the  horrors  of  its 
desolation.  A  fearful  awe  took  possession  of  me,  and 
as  I  stood  beneath  the  trees  I  had  so  often  climbed  in 
years  gone  by,  I  could  not  refrain  from  looking  uneasily 
behind  me,  and  treading  more  softly  upon  the  sacred 
leaves,  just  commencing  to  wither  and  fall. 

I  approached  the  door  with  as  much  reverence  as  ever 
crept  Jew  or  Mussulman,  on  bended  knee  and  with 
downcast  eye,  to  the  portals  of  the  Kabbala  or  Holy 
of  Holies,  and  as  I  reached  forth  my  hand  to  turn  the 
latch,  I  involuntarily  paused  to  listen  before  I  crossed 
the  threshold. 

Ah,  manhood!  what  are  all  thy  triumphs  compared  to 
a  schoolboy's  palms!  What  are  thy  infamies  compared 
to  his  disgraces!  As  head  of  his  class,  he  carries  a 
front  which  a  monarch  might  emulate  in  vain;  as  master 


40  Caxtofis  Book. 

of  the  playground,  be  wields  a  sceptre  more  indisputable 
than  Czar  or  Caesar  ever  bore!  As  a  favorite,  he  pro- 
vokes a  bitterer  hostility  than  ever  greeted  a  Bute  or  a 
Buckingham;  as  a  coward  or  traitor,  he  is  loaded  with 
a  contumely  beneath  which  Arnold  or  Hull  would  have 
sunk  forever ! 

I  listened.  The  pleasant  hum  of  busy  voices,  the  sharp 
tones  of  the  master,  the  mumbled  accents  of  hurried 
recitations,  all  were  gone.  The  gathering  shadows  of 
evening  corresponded  most  fittingly  with  the  deepening 
gloom  of  my  recollections,  and  I  abandoned  myself  to 
their  guidance,  without  an  eflbrt  to  control  or  direct 
them. 

I  stood  alone  upon  the  step.  Where  was  he,  whose 
younger  hand  always  locked  in  mine,  entered  that 
room  and  left  it  so  often  by  my  side;  that  bright-eyed 
boy,  whose  quick  wit  and  genial  temper  won  for  him 
the  affections  both  of  master  and  scholar  ;  that  gentle 
spirit  that  kindled  into  love,  or  saddened  into  tears,  as 
easily  as  sunshine  dallies  with  a  flower  or  raindrops 
fall  from  a  summer  cloud;  that  brother,  whose  genius 
was  my  pride,  whose  courage  my  admiration,  whose  soul 
my  glory;  he  who  faltered  not  before  the  walls  of  Cam- 
argo,  when  but  seven  men,  out  of  as  many  hundred  in 
his  regiment,  volunteered  to  go  forward,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Taylor,  to  endure  all  the  hardships  of  a  soldier's 
life,  in  a  tropical  clime,  and  to  brave  all  the  dangers  of 
a  three  days'  assault  upon  a  fortified  city;  he  who  fought 
so  heroically  at  Monterey,  and  escaped  death  in  so  many 
forms  on  the  battle-field,  only  to  meet  it  at  last  as  a 
victim  to  contagion,  contracted  at  the  bedside  of  a 
friend  ?  Where  was  he  ?  The  swift  waters  of  the  Kio 
Grande,  as  they  hurry  past  his  unsculptured  grave,  sing 
his  requiem,  and  carry  along  proudly  to  the  everlasting 


The  Deserted  SchoolJiottse.  41 

■sea  the  memory  of  Lis  noble  self  sacrifice,  as  the  purest 
iribute  they  bear  upon  their  tide ! 

Such  were  my  thoughts,  as  I  stood  pensively  upon  the 
block  that  served  as  a  step  when  I  was  boy,  and  which 
still  occupied  its  ancient  position.  I  noticed  that  a  large 
•crack  extended  its  whole  length,  and  several  shrubs,  of 
no  insignificant  size,  were  growing  out  of  the  aperture. 
This  prepared  me  for  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  the  interior. 
The  door  had  been  torn  from  its  hinge,  and  was  sus- 
itained  in  an  upright  position  by  a  bar  or  prop  on  the 
inside.  This  readily  gave  way  on  a  slight  pressure,  and 
^s  the  old  door  tumbled  headlong  upon  the  floor,  it 
Awoke  a  thousand  confused  and  mufHed  echoes,  more 
startling  to  me  than  a  clap  of  the  loudest  thunder.  But 
the  moment  I  passed  the  threshold,  the  gloom  and 
terror  instantly  vanished.  I  noticed  that  the  back  door 
was  open,  and  in  casting  my  glance  to  the  upper  end  of 
the  room,  where  the  Bev.  Mr.  Craig  once  presided  in 
state,  my  eyes  were  greeted  by  an  apparition,  that  had 
evidently  become  domiciliated  in  the  premises,  and 
whose  appearance  revolutionized  the  whole  tenor  of  my 
thoughts.  Before  me  stood  one  of  those  venerable- 
looking  billj- -goats,  of  sedate  eye,  fantastic  beard,  and 
crumpled  horn,  the  detestation  of  perfumed  belle,  and 
the  dread  of  mischievous  urchin.  I  had  seen  a,  facsimile 
of  him  many  years  before,  not  exactly  in  the  same 
place,  but  hard  by  in  a  thicket  of  pines.  I  could  almost 
fancy  it  to  be  the  ghost  of  the  murdered  ancestor,  or 
some  phantom  sent  to  haunt  me  near  the  spot  of  his 
execution.  I  shed  no  tear,  I  heaved  no  sigh,  as  I  trod 
the  dust-covered  floor  of  the  "  Woodville  Academy," 
but  greeted  my  Alma  3Ia(er  Avith  a  shout  of  almost  boy- 
ish laughter  as  I  approached  the  spot  where  the  peda- 
gogue once  sat  upon  his  throne. 


42  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

To  explain  why  it  was  that  my  feelings  underwent  a 
revulsion  so  sudden,  I  must  relate  the  Story  of  the 
Murdered  Billy-goat. 

Colonel  Averitt,  a  brave  soldier  in  the  war  of  1812^ 
retired  from  the  army  at  the  termination  of  hostilities, 
and  settled  upon  a  farm  adjoining  the  village  of  Wood- 
ville.  He  was  rather  a  queer  old  gentleman;  had  a 
high  Koman  nose,  and,  on  muster  days,  was  the  gen- 
eral admiration  of  all  Bertie  County.  He  then  officiated. 
as  colonel  commandant  of  militia,  and  dressed  in  full 
uniform,  with  a  tall,  white  feather  waving  most  bellig- 
erently from  his  three-cornered  cocked  hat.  He  wore 
a  sash  and  sword,  and  always  reviewed  the  troops  on 
horseback. 

One  day,  after  a  statutory  review  of  the  militia  of  the 
county,  a  proposition  was  started  to  form  a  volunteer- 
company  of  mounted  hussars.  A  nucleus  was  soon 
obtained,  and  in  less  than  a  week  a  sufficient  number 
had  enrolled  themselves  to  authorize  the  Colonel  to 
order  a  drill.  It  happened  on  a  Saturday;  the  place 
selected  was  an  old  field  near  the  schoolhouse,  and  I 
need  not  add  that  the  entire  battalion  of  boys  was  out 
in  full  force,  as  spectators  of  the  warlike  exercises. 
How  they  got  through  with  the  parade,  I  have  forgot- 
ten; but  I  do  remember  that  the  mania  for  soldiering,, 
from  that  day  forward,  took  possession  of  the  school. 

The  enrollment  at  first  consisted  entirely  of  infantry, 
and  several  weeks  elapsed  before  anybody  ventured  to 
suggest  a  mounted  corps.  Late  one  afternoon,  how- 
ever, as  we  were  returning  homeward,  with  drums  beat- 
ing and  colors  flying,  we  disturbed  a  flock  of  lazy  goats, 
browsing  upon  dry  grass,  and  evincing  no  great  dread 
for  the  doughty  warriors  advancing.  Our  captain, 
whose  dignity  was  highly  offended  at  this  utter  want 


The  Deserted  SchoolJiouse.  43. 

of  respect,  gave  the  order  to  "  form  columu  !"  "present 
arms!"  and  "charge!"  Austrian  nor  Spaniard,  Italian 
nor  Prussian,  before  the  resistless  squadrons  of  Murat 
or  Macdonald,  ever  displayed  finer  qualities  of  light 
infantry  or  flying  artillery,  than  did  the  vanquished 
enemy  of  the  "  Woodville  Cadets"  on  this  memorable 
occasion.  They  were  taken  entirely  by  surprise,  and, 
Avithout  offering  the  least  resistance,  right-about-faced, 
and  fled  precipitously  from  the  field.  Their  terrified 
bleating  mingled  fearfully  with  our  shouts  of  victory; 
and  when,  at  the  command  of  our  captain,  I  blew  the 
signal  to  halt  and  rendezvous,  our  brave  fellows  mag- 
nanimously gave  up  the  pursuit,  and  returned  from  the 
chase,  bringing  with  them  no  less  than  five  full-grown 
prisoners,  as  trophies  of  victory ! 

A  council  of  war  was  immediately  called,  to  deter- 
mine in  what  way  we  should  dispose  of  .our  booty. 
After  much  learned  discussion,  and  some  warm  dis- 
putes, the  propositions  were  narrowed  down  to  two: 

Plan  the  first  was,  to  cut  off  all  the  beard  of  each 
prisoner,  flog,  and  release  him. 

Plan  the  second,  on  the  contrary,  was,  to  conduct  the 
prisoners  to  the  playground,  treat  them  kindly,  and  en- 
deavor to  train  them  to  the  bit  and  saddle,  so  as  to 
furnish  the  officers  with  what  they  needed  so  much, — 
war-steeds  for  battle,  fiery  chargers  for  review. 

The  vote  was  finally  taken,  and  plan  number  two  was- 
adopted  by  a  considerable  majority. 

Obstacles  are  never  insurmountable  to  boys  and  Bo- 
napartes !  Our  cou'p  cVetat  succeeded  quite  as  well  as 
that  of  the  2d  of  December,  and  before  a  week  elapsed 
the  chief  officers  were  all  splendidly  mounted  and  fully 
equipped. 

At  this  stage  of  the  war  against  the  "bearded  races,'* 


44  Caxton  s  Book. 

the  cavalry  question  was  propounded  by  one  of  the  pri- 
vates in  Company  A.  For  his  part,  he  declared  can- 
didly that  he  was  tired  of  marching  and  countermarching 
afoot,  and  that  he  saw  no  good  reason  why  an  invasion 
of  the  enemy's  country  should  not  at  once  be  under- 
taken, to  secure  animals  enough  to  mount  the  whole 
regiment. 

Another  council  was  held,  and  the  resolve  unanimously 
adopted,  to  cross  the  border  in  full  force,  on  the  next 
Saturday  afternoon. 

In  the  meantime,  the  clouds  of  war  began  to  thicken 
in  another  quarter.  Colonel  Averitt  had  been  informed 
of  the  cowp  d'etat  related  above,  and  determined  to  pre- 
vent any  further  depredations  on  his  flock  by  a  stroke 
of  masterly  generalship,  worthy  of  his  prowess  in  the 
late  war  with  Great  Britain. 

And  now  it  becomes  proper  to  introduce  upon  the 
scene  the  most  important  personage  in  this  history,  and 
the  hero  of  the  whole  stor3\  I  allude,  of  course,  to  the 
bold,  calm,  dignified,  undaunted  and  imperturbable 
natural  guardian  of  the  Colonel's  fold  —  Billy  Goat ! 

He  boasted  of  a  beard  longer,  whiter,  and  more  ven- 
erable than  a  high -priest  in  Masonry;  his  mane  emulated 
that  of  the  king  of  beasts  ;  his  horns  were  as  crooked, 
and  almost  as  long,  as  the  Cashie  Biver,  on  whose 
banks  he  was  born ;  his  tail  might  have  been  selected 
by  some  Spanish  hidalgo,  as  a  coat  of  arms,  emblem- 
atic of  the  pride  and  hauteur  of  his  family  ;  whilst  his 
iout  ensemble  presented  that  dignity  of  demeanor,  maj- 
esty of  carriage,  consciousness  of  superior  fortune,  and 
defiance  of  all  danger,  which  we  may  imagine  character- 
ized the  elder  Napoleon  previous  to  the  battle  of  Water- 
loo. But  our  hero  possessed  moral  qualities  quite  equal 
to  his  personal  traits.     He  was  brave  to  a  fault,  com- 


The  Deserted  SchoolJiouse.  45 

bative  to  a  miracle,  and  as  invincible  in  battle  as  lie 
was  belligerent  in  mood.  The  sight  of  a  coat-tail  inva- 
riably excited  his  anger,  and  a  red  handkerchief  nearly 
distracted  him  with  rage.  Indeed,  he  had  recently 
grown  so  irascible  that  Colonel  Averitt  was  compelled 
to  keep  him  shut  up  in  the  fowl-yard,  a  close  prisoner, 
to  protect  him  from  a  justly  indignant  neighborhood. 

Such  was  the  champion  that  the  Colonel  now  released 
and  placed  at  the  head  of  the  opposing  forces.  Satur- 
day came  at  last,  and  the  entire  morning  was  devoted 
to  the  construction  of  the  proper  number  of  wooden 
bits,  twine  bridle-reins,  leather  stirrups  and  pasteboard 
saddles.  By  twelve  o'clock  everything  was  ready,  and 
the  order  given  to  march.  We  were  disappointed  in 
not  finding  the  enemy  at  his  accustomed  haunt,  and  had 
to  prolong  our  march  nearly  half  a  mile  before  we  came- 
up  with  him.  Our  scouts,  however,  soon  discovered 
him  in  an  old  field,  Ij'ing  encamped  beneath  some  young 
persimmon  bushes,  and  entirely  unconscious  of  impend- 
ing danger.  We  approached  stealthily,  according  to  our 
usual  plan,  and  then  at  a  concerted  signal  rushed  head- 
long upon  the  foe.  But  we  had  no  sooner  given  the 
alarm  than  our  enemies  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  clus- 
tered about  a  central  object,  which  we  immediately  rec- 
ognized, to  our  chagrin  and  terror,  as  none  other  than 
Billy  Goat  himself. 

The  captain,  however,  was  not  to  be  daunted  or  foiled; 
he  boldly  made  a  plunge  at  the  champion  of  our  adver- 
saries, and  would  have  succeeded  in  seizing  him  by  the 
horns,  if  he  had  not  been  unfortunatel}'  butted  over  be- 
fore he  could  reach  them.  Two  or  three  of  our  bravest 
comrades  flew  to  his  assistance,  but  met  with  the  same 
fate  before  they  could  rescue  him  from  danger.  The 
remainder  of  us  drew  off  a  short  but  prudent  distance 


46  Caxton  s  Book. 

from  the  field  of  battle,  to  hold  a  council  of  war,  and 
determine  upon  a  plan  of  operations.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments our  wounded  companions  joined  us,  and  entreated 
us  to  close  at  once  upon  the  foe  and  surround  him. 
They  declared  they  were  not  afraid  to  beard  the  lion  in 
his  den,  and  that  being  butted  heels  over  head  two  or 
three  times  but  whetted  their  courage,  and  incited  them 
to  deeds  of  loftier  daring.  Their  eloquence,  however, 
was  more  admired  than  their  prudence,  and  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  council  decided  that  "it  was  inopportune, 
without  other  munitions  of  war  than  those  we  had  upon 
the  field,  to  risk  a  general  engagement."  It  was  agreed, 
hoAvever,  nem.  con.,  that  on  the  next  Saturday  we  would 
provide  ourselves  with  ropes  and  fishing-poles,  and  such 
other  arms  as  might  prove  advantageous,  and  proceed 
to  surround  and  noose  our  most  formidable  enemy,  over- 
power him  by  the  force  of  numbers,  and  take  him  pris- 
oner at  all  hazards.  Having  fully  determined  upon  this 
plan  of  attack,  we  hoisted  our  flag  once  more,  ordered 
the  drum  to  beat  Yankee  Doodle,  and  retreated  in  most 
excellent  order  from  the  field — our  foe  not  venturing  to 
pursue  us. 

The  week  wore  slowly  and  uneasily  away.  The  clouds 
of  war  were  gathering  rapidly,  and  the  low  roll  of  dis- 
tant thunder  announced  that  a  battle  storm  of  no  ordi- 
nary importance  was  near  at  hand.  Colonel  Averitt,  by 
«ome  traitorous  trick  of  war,  had  heard  of  our  former  de- 
feat, and  publicly  taunted  our  commander  with  his  fail- 
ure. Indeed,  more  than  one  of  the  villagers  had  heard 
of  the  disastrous  result  of  the  campaign,  and  sent  imper- 
tinent messages  to  those  who  had  been  wounded  in  the 
encounter.  Two  or  three  of  the  young  ladies,  also,  in 
the  girls'  department,  had  been  inoculated  with  the/im 
(as  it  was  absurdly  denominated),   and  a  leather  medal 


The  Deserted  Schoolhottse.  47 

TA'as  pinned  most  provokingly  to  the  short  jacket  of  the 
captain  by  one  of  those  hoydenish  Amazons. 

All  these  events  served  to  whet  the  courage  of  our 
men,  and  strange  asit  may  appear,  to  embitter  our  hos- 
tility to  our  victorious  foe.  Some  of  the  officers  pro- 
ceeded so  far  as  to  threaten  Colonel  Averitt  himself, 
and  at  one  time,  I  am  confident,  he  stood  in  almost  as 
much  danger  as  the  protector  of  his  flock. 

Saturday  came  at  last,  and  at  the  first  blast  of  the 
bugle,  we  formed  into  line,  and  advanced  with  great 
alacrity  into  the  enemy's  country.  After  marching  half 
an  hour,  our  scouts  hastily  returned,  with  the  informa- 
tion that  the  enemy  was  drawn  up,  in  full  force,  near 
the  scene  of  the  Persimmon  bush  battle.  We  advanced 
courageously  to  within  speaking  distance,  and  then 
halted  to  breathe  the  troops  and  prepare  for  the  en- 
gagement. We  survej^ed  our  enemies  with  attention, 
but  without  alarm.     There  they  stood  right  before  us! 

"  Firm  paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form; 
Still  as  the  breeze,  but  dreadful  as  the  storm! " 

Our  preparations  were  soon  made,  and  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  captain,  we  separated  into  single  files,  one 
half  making  a  detour  to  the  right,  and  the  other  to  the 
left,  so  as  to  encircle  the  foe.  Our  instructions  were  to 
spare  all  non-combatants,  to  pass  by  as  unworthy  of 
notice  all  minor  foes,  and  to  make  a  simultaneous  rush 
upon  the  proud  champion  of  our  adversaries. 

By  this  masterly  manoeuvre  it  was  supposed  we  should 
be  enabled  to  escape  unharmed,  or  at  any  rate  without 
many  serious  casualties.  But  as  it  afterward  appeared, 
we  did  not  sufficiently  estimate  the  strength  and  activ- 
ity of  our  enemy. 

After  this  preparatory  manoeuvre  had  been  success- 
fully accomplished,  our  captain  gave  the  order  to 
"  charge!  "  in  a  stentorian  voice,  and  at  the  same  time 


48  Caxtons  Book. 

rushed  forward  most  gallantl}^  at  the  head  of  the  squad- 
ron. The  post  of  honor  is  generally  the  post  of  dan- 
ger also,  and  so  it  proved  on  this  occasion;  for  before 
the  captain  could  grapple  with  the  foe,  Billy  Goat  rose 
suddenly  on  his  hinder  legs,  and  uttering  a  loud  note 
of  defiance,  dashed  with  lightning  speed  at  the  breast 
of  our  commander,  and  at  a  single  blow  laid  him  pros- 
trate on  the  field.  Then  wheeling  quickly,  ere  any  of 
his  assailants  could  attack  his  rear  flank,  he  performed 
the  same  exploit  upon  the  first  and  second  lieutenants, 
and  made  an  unsuccessful  pass  at  the  standard-  bearer, 
who  eluded  the  danger  by  a  scientific  retreat.  At  this 
moment,  when  the  fortunes  of  the  day  hung,  as  it  were, 
on  a  single  hair,  our  drummer,  who  enjoyed  the  sobri- 
quet of  "Weasel,"  advanced  slowly  but  chivalrously 
upon  the  foe. 

As  the  hosts  of  Israel  and  Gath  paused  upon  the  field 
of  Elah,  and  awaited  with  fear  and  trembling  the  issue 
of  the  single-handed  contest  between  David  and  Goliah; 
as  Roman  and  Sabine  stood  back  and  reposed  on  their 
arms,  whilst  Horatio  and  Curiatii  fought  for  the  destiny 
of  Eome  and  the  mastery  of  the  world,  so  the  "  Wood- 
ville  Cadets  "  halted  in  their  tracks  on  this  memorable 
day,  and  all  aghast  with  awe  and  admiration,  watched 
the  progress  of  the  terrible  duello  between  "  Weasel,"' 
the  drummer  boy,  and  Billy  Goat,  the  hero  of  the  battle 
of  the  Persimmon  bush. 

The  drummer  first  disengaged  himself  from  the  in- 
cumbrance of  his  martial  music,  then  threw  his  hat 
fiercely  upon  the  ground,  and  warily  and  circumspectly 
approached  his  foe.  Nor  was  that  foe  unprepared,  for 
rearing  as  usual  on  his  nether  extremities,  he  bleated 
out  a  long  note  of  contempt  and  defiance,  and  dashed 
suddenly  upon  the  "  Weasel." 

Instead  of  waiting  to  receive  the  force  of  the  blow  upon. 


IJie  Deserted  Schoolhouse.  49 

his  breast  or  brow,  the  drummer  wheeled  right-about 
face,  and  falling  suddenly  upon  all  fours  Avith  most 
surprising  dexterit}',  presented  a  less  vulnerable  part  of 
his  body  to  his  antagonist,  who,  being  under  full  head- 
way, was  compelled  to  accept  the  substituted  buttress, 
and  immediately  planted  there  a  herculean  thump.  I 
need  not  say  that  the  drummer  Avas  hurled  many  feet 
heels  over  head,  b}'  this  disastrous  blow;  but  he  had 
obtained  the  very  advantage  he  desired  to  secure,  and 
springing  upon  his  feet  he  leaped  quicker  than  light- 
ning upon  the  back  of  his  foe,  and  in  spite  of  every 
effort  to  dislodge  him,  sat  there  in  security  and  triumph! 

With  a  loud  huzza,  the  main  body  of  the  "  Cadets" 
now  rushed  forward,  and  after  a  feeble  resistance,  suc- 
ceeded in  overpowering  the  champion  of  our  foes. 

As  a  matter  of  precaution,  we  blindfolded  him  with 
several  handkerchiefs,  and  led  him  away  in  as  much 
state  as  the  Emperor  Aurelian  displayed  when  he  car- 
ried Zenobia  to  Ptome,  a  prisoner  at  his  chariot-wheels. 

The  fate  of  the  vanquished  Billy  Goat  is  soon  related. 
A  council  of  war  decided  that  he  should  be  taken  into 
a  dense  pine  thicket,  there  suspended  head  downwards, 
and  thrashed  ad  libitura,  by  the  whole  army. 

The  sentence  was  carried  into  execution  immediately; 
and  though  he  was  cut  down  and  released  after  our 
vengeance  was  satisfied,  I  yet  owe  it  to  truth  and  his- 
tory to  declare,  that  before  a  week  elapsed,  he  died  of 
a  broken  heart,  and  was  buried  by  Colonel  Averitt  with 
all  the  honors  of  war. 

If  it  be  any  satisfaction  to  the  curious  inquirer,  I  may 

add  in  conclusion,  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Craig  avenged  his 

manes,  by  wearing  out  a  chinquapin  apiece  on  the  backs 

of  "  Weasel,"  the  captain  and  officers,  and  immediately 

afterward  disbanded  the  whole  army. 
4 


IV. 

FOR  AN  ALBUM. 

"TTTHEN  first  our  father,  Adam,  sinned 

'  ^   Against  tlie  will  of  Heaven, 
And  forth  from  Eden's  hajopy  gates 

A  wanderer  was  driven. 
He  paused  beside  a  limpid  brook, 

That  through  the  garden  ran. 
And,  gazing  in  its  mirrored  wave, 

Beheld  himself — a  man  ! 

God's  holy  peace  no  longer  beamed 

In  brightness  from  his  eye; 
But  in  its  depths  dark  passions  blazed. 

Like  lightnings  in  the  sky. 
Young  Innocence  no  longer  wreathed 

His  features  with  her  smile; 
But  Sin  sat  there  in  scorched  dismay. 

Like  some  volcanic  isle. 

No  longer  radiant  beauty  shone 

Upon  his  manly  brow; 
But  care  had  traced  deep  furrows  there, 

With  stern  misfortune's  plow. 
Joy  beamed  no  longer  from  his  face; 

His  step  was  sad  and  slow; 
His  heart  was  heavy  with  its  grief; 

His  bosom  with  its  woe. 

Whilst  gazing  at  his  altered  form 

Within  the  mirrored  brook. 
He  spied  an  angel  leaning  o'er, 

With  pity  in  her  look. 


For  an  Album.  51 

He  turned,  distrustful  of  his  sight, 

Unwilling  to  believe, 
"When,  lo!  in  Heaven's  own  radiance  smiled, 

His  sweet  companion,  Eve! 

Tondly  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart, 

And  blissfully  he  cried, 
"  What  tho'  I've  lost  a  Paradise, 

I've  gained  an  angel  bride ! 
No  flowers  in  Eden  ever  bloomed. 

No!  not  in  heaven  above, 
Sweeter  than  woman  brings  to  man — 

Her  friendship,  truth,  and  love!" 

These  buds  were  brought  by  Adam's  bride, 

Outside  of  Eden's  gate. 
And  scattered  o'er  the  world;  to  them 

This  book  I  dedicate. 


V. 

PHASES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHN  POLLEXFEN. 

PHASE     THE     EIKST. 

npHERE  are  but  three  persons  now  living  who  can 
-L  truthfully  answer  the   question,    "How  did   John 
Pollexfen,  the  photographer,  make  his  fortune?  " 

No  confidence  will  be  violated,  now  that  he  is  dead, 
and  his  heirs  residents  of  a  foreign  country,  if  I  relate 
the  story  of  that  singular  man,  whose  rapid  accumula- 
tion of  wealth  astonished  the  whole  circle  of  his 
acquaintance. 

Returning  from  the  old  man's  funeral  a  few  days 
since,  the  subject  of  Pollexfen's  discoveries  became 
the  topic  of  conversation;  and  my  companions  in  the 
same  carriage,  aware  that,  as  his  attorney  and  confiden- 
tial friend,  I  knew  more  of  the  details  of  his  business- 
than  any  one  else,  extorted  from  me  a  23romise  that  at 
the  first  leisure  moment  I  would  relate,  in  print,  th& 
secret  of  that  curious  invention  by  which  the  photo- 
graphic art  was  so  largely  enriched,  and  himself  ele- 
vated at  once  to  the  acme  of  opulence  and  renown. 

Few  persons  who  were  residents  of  the  city  of  Sau 
Francisco  at  an  early  day,  will  fail  to  remember  the 
site  of  the  humble  gallery  in  which  Pollexfen  laid 
the  foundations  of  his  fame.  It  was  situated  on  Mer- 
chant Street,  about  midway  between  Kearny  and  Mont- 
gomery Streets,  in  an  old  wooden  building;  the  ground 
being  occupied  at  present  by  the  solid  brick  structure 


Phases  hi  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfeii.     5  3 

of  Thomas  E.  Bolton.  It  fed  the  flames  of  the  great 
May  fire  of  1851,  was  rebuilt,  but  again  consumed  in 
December,  1853.  It  was  during  the  fall  of  the  latter 
year  that  the  principal  event  took  place  which  is  to  con- 
stitute the  most  prominent  feature  of  my  narrative. 

I  am  aware  that  the  facts  will  be  discredited  b}^  many, 
and  doubted  at  first  by  all;  but  I  beg  to  premise,  at  the 
outset,  that  because  they  are  uncommon,  by  no  means 
proves  that  they  are  untrue.  Besides,  should  the  ques- 
tion ever  become  a  judicial  one,  I  hold  in  my  hands 
such  loritten  2^1'oofs,  signed  by  the  parties  most  deeply 
implicated,  as  will  at  once  terminate  both  doubt  and 
litigation.  Of  this,  however,  I  have  at  present  no  ap- 
prehensions; for  Lucile  and  her  husband  are  both  too 
honorable  to  assail  the  reputation  of  the  dead,  and  too 
rich  themselves  to  attempt  to  pillage  the  living. 

A.S  it  is  my  wish  to  be  distinctly  understood,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  be  exculpated  from  all  blame  for  the 
part  I  myself  acted  in  the  drama,  the  story  must  com- 
mence with  my  first  acquaintance  wath  Mademoiselle 
Lucile  Marmout. 

In  the  spring  of  1851,  I  embarked  at  New  York  for 
Panama,  or  rather  Chagres,  on  board  the  steamship 
"  Ohio,"  Captain  Schenck,  on  my  way  to  the  then  dis- 
tant coast  of  California,  attracted  hither  by  the  universal 
desire  to  accumulate  a  rapid  fortune,  and  return  at  the 
earliest  practicable  period  to  my  home,  on  the  Atlantic 
seaboard. 

There  were  many  hundred  such  passengers  on  the 
same  ship.  But  little  sociability  prevailed,  until  after 
the  steamer  left  Havana,  where  it  was  then  the  custom 
to  touch  on  the  "outward  bound,"  to  obtain  a  fresh 
supply  of  fuel  and  provisions.  We  were  detained  longer 
than  customary  at  Havana,  and  most  of  the  passengers 


54  Caxton  s  Book. 

embraced  the  opportunity  to  visit  the  Bishop's  Garden 
and  the  tomb  of  Columbus. 

One  morning,  somewhat  earlier  than  usual,  I  was 
standing  outside  the  railing  which  incloses  the  monu- 
ment of  the  great  discoverer,  and  had  just  transcribed 
in  my  note-book  the  following  epitaph : 

"  O!  Eestos  y  Imagen 
Del  Grande  Colon: 
Mil  siglos  durad  guardados 

En  lare  Urna, 
Y  en  la  Eemembranza  , 

De  Nuestra  Nacion," 

■when  I  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  loud  scream 
directly  behind  me.  On  turning,  I  beheld  a  young 
lady  whom  I  had  seen  but  once  before  on  the  steamer, 
leaning  over  the  prostrate  form  of  an  elderly  female, 
and  applying  such  restoratives  as  were  at  hand  to  re- 
suscitate her,  for  she  had  fainted.  Seeing  me,  the 
daughter  exclaimed,  "  Oli,  Monsieur!  y-a-t-il  iin  medecin 
id?'''  I  hastened  to  the  side  of  the  mother,  and  was 
about  to  lift  her  from  the  pavement,  when  M.  Marmout 
himself  entered  the  cathedral.  I  assisted  him  in  placing 
his  wife  in  a  volante  then  passing,  and  she  was  safely 
conveyed  to  the  hotel. 

Having  myself  some  knowledge  of  both  French  and 
Spanish,  and  able  to  converse  in  either  tongue,  Lucile 
Marmont,  then  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  I,  from  that 
time  forward,  became  close  and  confidential  friends. 

The  steamer  sailed  the  next  day,  and  in  due  time 
anchored  oflf  the  roadstead  of  Chagres.  But  Mme. 
Marmont,  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption  when  she 
embarked  at  New  York,  continued  extremely  ill  until 
we  passed  Point  Concepcion,  on  this  coast,  when  she 
suddenly  expired  from  an  attack  of  hemorrhage  of  the 
lungs. 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  yohn  Pollexfen.      5  5 

She  was  buried  at  sea;  and  never  can  I  forget  the 
unutterable  anguish  of  poor  Lucile,  as  her  mother's 
body  splashed  into  the  cold  blue  waters  of  the  Pacific. 

There  she  stood,  holding  on  to  the  railing,  paler  than 
monumental  marble,  motionless  as  a  statue,  rigid  as  a 
corpse.  The  whole  scene  around  her  seemed  unper- 
ceived.  Her  eyes  gazed  upon  vacancy;  her  head  was 
thrust  slightly  forward,  and  her  disheveled  tresses,  black 
as  Plutonian  night,  fell  neglected  aboiit  her  shoulders. 

Captain  Watkins,  then  commanding  the  "Panama" 
— whom,  may  God  bless — wept  like  a  child;  and  his 
manly  voice,  that  never  quailed  in  the  dread  presence 
of  the  lightning  or  the  hurricane,  broke,  chokingly,  as 
he  attempted  to  finish  the  burial  rite,  and  died  away  in 
agitated  sobs. 

One  by  one  the  passengers  left  the  spot,  consecrated 
to  the  grief  of  that  only  child — now  more  than  orphaned 
by  her  irreparable  loss.  Lifting  my  eyes,  at  last,  none 
save  the  daughter  and  her  father  stood  before  me. 
Charmed  to  the  spot  was  I,  by  a  spell  that  seemed  irre- 
sistible. Scarcely  able  to  move  a  muscle,  there  I  re- 
mained, speechless  and  overpowered.  Finally  the  father 
spoke,  and  then  Lucile  fell  headlong  into  his  arms.  He 
bore  her  into  his  state-room,  where  the  ship's  surgeon 
was  summoned,  and  where  he  continued  his  ministra- 
tions until  we  reached  this  port. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  I  attended  them 
ashore,  and  saw  them  safely  and  commodiously  lodged 
at  the  old  Parker  House,  before  I  once  thought  of  my 
own  accommodations. 

Weeks  passed,  and  months,  too,  stole  gradually  away, 
before  I  saw  anything  more  of  the  bereaved  and  mourn- 
ing child.  One  day,  however,  as  I  was  lolling  care- 
lessly in  my  office,  after  business  hours  (and  that  meant 


56  Cax ton's  Book. 

just  at  dark  in  those  early  times),  Lucile  hastily  entered. 
I  was  startled  to  see  her;  for  upon  her  visage  I  thought 
I  beheld  the  same  stolid  spell  of  agony  that  some  months 
before  had  transfixed  my  very  soul.  Before  I  had  time 
to  recover  myself,  or  ask  her  to  be  seated,  she  ap- 
proached closer,  and  said  in  a  half  whisper,  "  Oh,  sir, 
come  with  me  home." 

On  our  way  she  explained  that  her  father  was  lying 
dangerously  ill,  and  that  she  knew  no  physician  to  whom 
she  could  apply,  and  in  whose  skill  she  could  place  con- 
fidence. I  at  once  recommended  Dr.  H.  M.  White 
(since  dead),  well  knowing  not  only  his  great  success, 
but  equally  cognizant  of  that  universal  charity  that  ren- 
dered him  afterwards  no  less  beloved  than  illustrious. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  Doctor  seized  his 
hat,  and  hastened  along  with^us,  to  the  wretched  abode 
of  the  sick,  and,  as  it  afterwards  proved,  the  palsied 
father.  The  disease  was  pronounced  apoplexy,  and  re- 
covery doubtful.  Still,  there  was  hope.  Whilst  we 
were  seated  around  the  bedside,  a  tall,  emaciated,  feeble, 
but  very  handsome  young  man  entered,  and  staggered 
to  a  seat.  He  was  coarsely  and  meanly  clad;  but  there 
was  something  about  him  that  not  only  betokened  the 
gentleman,  but  the  well-bred  and  accomplished  scholar. 
As  he  seated  himself,  he  exchanged  a  glance  with  Lucile, 
and  in  that  silent  look  I  read  the  future  history  of  both 
their  lives.  On  lilting  my  eyes  toward  hers,  the  pallor 
fled  for  an  instant  from  her  cheek,  and  a  traitor  blush 
flashed  its  crimson  confession  across  her  features. 

The  patient  was  copiously  bled  from  an  artery  in  the 
temple,  and  graduall}-  recovered  his  consciousness,  but 
on  attempting  to  speak  we  ascertained  that  partial  paral- 
ysis had  resulted  from  the  fit. 

As  I  rose,  with  the  Doctor,  to  leave,  Lucile  beckoned 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  yohn  Pollexfen.     5  7 

me  to  remain,  and  approaching  me  more  closely,  whis- 
pered in  French,  "Stay,  and  I  will  tell  you  all."  The 
main  points  of  her  story,  though  deeply  interesting  to 
me,  at  that  time,  were  so  greatly  eclipsed  by  subsequent 
•events,  that  they  are  scarcely  worthy  of  narration. 
Indeed,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  detail  them  here  fully,  but 
will  content  myself  with  stating,  in  few  words,  only  such 
events  as  bear  directly  upon  the  fortunes  of  John 
Pollexfen. 

As  intimated  above,  Lucile  was  an  only  child.  She 
was  born  in  Dauj^hiny,  a  province  of  France,  and  immi- 
grated to  America  during  the  disastrous  year  1848.  Her 
father  was  exiled,  and  his  estates  seized  by  the  officers 
•of  the  government,  on  account  of  his  political  tenets. 
The  family  embarked  at  Marseilles,  with  just  sufficient 
ready  money  to  pay  their  passage  to  New  York,  and 
support  them  for  a  few  months  after  their  arrival.  It  soon 
became  apparent  that  want,  and  perhaps  starvation, 
were  in  store,  unless  some  means  of  obtaining  a  liveli- 
hood could  be  devised.  The  sole  expedient  was  music, 
of  which  M.  Marmont  was  a  proficient,  and  to  this 
resource  he  at  once  applied  himself  most  industriously. 
He  had  accumulated  a  sufficient  sum  to  pay  his  expenses 
to  this  coast,  up  to  the  beginning  of  1851,  and  took 
passage  for  San  Francisco,  as  we  have  already  seen,  in 
the  spring  of  that  year. 

Reaching  here,  he  became  more  embarrassed  every 
•day,  unacquainted  as  he  was  with  the  language,  and  still 
less  with  the  wild  life  into  which  he  was  so  suddenly 
plunged.  Whilst  poverty  was  pinching  his  body,  grief 
for  the  loss  of  his  wife  was  torturing  his  soul.  Silent, 
sad,  almost  morose  to  others,  his  only  delight  was  in  his 
child.  Apprehensions  for  her  fate,  in  case  of  accident 
to  himself,  embittered  his  existence,  and  hastened  the 


58  Caxton  s  Book. 

catastrophe  above  related.  .Desirous  of  placing  her  in  a. 
situation  in  which  she  could  earn  a  livelihood,  independ- 
ent of  his  own  precarious  exertions,  he  taught  her 
drawing  and  painting,  and  had  just  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing for  her  the  employment  of  coloring  photographs  at- 
Pollexfen's  gallery  the  very  day  he  was  seized  with  his^^ 
fatal  disorder. 

Some  weeks  previous  to  this,  Charles  Courtland,  the^ 
young  man  before  mentioned,  became  an  inmate  of  his 
house  under  the  following  circumstances : 

One  evening,  after  the  performances  at  the  Jenny  Lind 
Theatre  (where  M.  Marmont  was  employed)  were  over, 
and  consequently  very  late,  whilst  he  was  pursuing  his 
lonely  way  homewards  he  accidentally  stumbled  over  an 
impediment  in  his  path.  He  at  once  recognized  it  as  a. 
human  body,  and  being  near  home,  he  lifted  the  sense- 
less form  into  his  house.  A  severe  contusion  behind  the^ 
ear  had  been  the  cause  of  the  young  man's  misfortune, 
and  his  robbery  had  been  successfully  accomplished 
whilst  lying  in  a  state  of  insensibility. 

His  recovery  was  extremely  slow,  and  though  watched 
by  the  brightest  pair  of  eyes  that  ever  shot  their  dan- 
gerous glances  into  a  human  soul,  Courtland  had  not 
fully  recovered  his  strength  up  to  the  time  that  I  made 
his  acquaintance. 

He  was  a  Virginian  by  birth;  had  spent  two  years  in 
the  mines  on  Feather  River,  and  having  accumulated  a 
considerable  sum  of  money,  came  to  San  Francisco  to 
purchase  a  small  stock  of  goods,  with  which  he  in- 
tended to  open  a  store  at  Bidwell's  Bar.  His  robbery 
frustrated  all  these  golden  dreams,  and  his  capture  by^ 
Lucile  Marmont  completed  his  financial  ruin. 

Here  terminates  the  first  phase  in  the  history  of  John. 
Pollexfen. 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  JoJin  Pollcxfeit.     59 

PHASE    THE    SECOND. 

"Useless!  useless!  all  useless!"  exclaimed  John  Pol- 
lexfen,  as  lie  dashed  a  glass  negative,  which  he  had  most 
elaborately  prepared,  into  the  slop-bucket.  "Go,  sleep 
with  your  predecessors."  After  a  moment's  silence,  h& 
again  spoke:  "But  I  know  it  exists.  Nature  has  the 
secret  locked  up  securely,  as  she  thinks,  but  I'll  tear  it 
from  her.  Doesn't  the  eye  see  ?  Is  not  the  retina  im- 
pressible to  the  faintest  gleam  of  light?  "What  tele- 
graphs to  my  soul  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  ?  Nothing 
but  the  eye,  the  human  eye.  And  shall  John  Pollexfen 
be  told,  after  he  has  lived  half  a  century,  that  the  com- 
pacted humors  of  this  little  organ  can  do  more  than  his 
whole  laboratory?  By  heaven!  I'll  wrest  the  secret 
from  the  labyrinth  of  nature,  or  pluck  my  own  eyes 
from  their  sockets." 

Thus  soliloquized  John  Pollexfen,  a  few  days  after 
the  events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter. 

He  was  seated  at  a  table,  in  a  darkened  chamber,  witli 
a  light  burning,  though  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and 
his  countenance  bore  an  unmistakable  expression  of 
disappointment,  mingled  with  disgust,  at  the  failure  of 
his  last  experiment.  He  was  evidently  in  an  ill-humor, 
and  seemed  puzzled  what  to  do  next.  Just  then  a  light 
tap  came  at  the  door,  and  in  reply  to  an  invitation  ta 
enter,  the  pale,  delicate  features  of  Lucile  Marmont 
appeared  at  the  threshold. 

"Oh!  is  it  you,  my  child?"  said  the  photographer, 
rising.  "Let  me  see  your  touches."  After  surveying 
the  painted  photographs  a  moment,  he  broke  out  into  a 
sort  of  artistic  glee:  "Beautiful!  beautiful!  an  adept, 
quite  an  adept !  Who  taught  you  ?  Come,  have  no  se- 
crets from  me;  I'm  an  old  man,  and  may  be  of  service 
to  you  yet.     What  city  artist  gave  you  the  cue  ?" 


6o  Caxton  s  Book. 

Before  relating  any  more  of  the  conversation,  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  paint  Joliu  Pollexfeu  as  lie  was. 
Metliinks  I  can  see  his  tall,  rawboned,  angular  form 
before  me,  even  now,  as  I  write  these  lines.  There  he 
■stands,  Scotch  all  over,  from  head  to  foot.  It  was 
whispered  about  in  early  times — for  really  no  one  knew 
inuch  about  his  previous  career — that  John  Pollex- 
ien  had  been  a  famous  sea  captain;  that  he  had  sailed 
around  the  world  many  times;  had  visited  the  coast  of 
Africa  under  suspicious  circumstances,  and  finally  found 
liis  way  to  California  from  the  then  unpopular  region  of 
Australia.  Without  pausing  to  trace  these  rumors  fur- 
ther, it  must  be  admitted  that  there  was  something  in 
the  appearance  of  the  man  sufficiently  repulsive,  at  first 
sight,  to  give  them  currency.  He  had  a  large  bushy 
head,  profusely  furnished  with  hair  almost  brickdust 
in  color,  and  growing  down  upon  a  broad,  low  forehead, 
indicative  of  great  mathematical  and  constructive 
power.  His  brows  were  long  and  shaggy,  and  over- 
hung a  restless,  deep-set,  cold,  gray  eye,  that  met  the 
fiercest  glance  unquailingly,  and  seemed  possessed  of 
"that  magnetic  power  which  dazzles,  reads  and  confounds 
whatsoever  it  looks  upon.  There  was  no  escape  from 
its  inquisitive  glitter.  It  sounded  the  very  depths  of  the 
soul  it  thought  proper  to  search.  Whilst  gazing  at  you, 
instinct  felt  the  glance  before  your  own  eye  was  lifted 
so  as  to  encounter  his.  There  was  no  human  weakness 
in  its  expression.  It  was  as  pitiless  as  the  gleam  of 
ihe  lightning.  But  you  felt  no  less  that  high  intelli- 
gence flashed  from  its  depths.  Courage,  you  knew, 
was  there;  and  true  bravery  is  akin  to  all  the  nobler  vir- 
tues. This  man,  you  at  once  said,  may  be  cold,  but  it 
is  impossible  for  him  to  be  unjust,  deceitful  or  ungen- 
-erous.     He  might,  like  Shylock,  insist  on  a  riglit,  no 


\; 


Phases  iii  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfcn.     6  r 

matter  how  vindictive,  but  lie  would  never  forge  a 
claim,  no  matter  how  insignificant.  He  might  crush, 
like  Caesar,  but  he  could  never  plot  like  Catiline.  In 
addition  to  all  this,  it  required  but  slight  knowledge  of 
physiognomy  to  perceive  that  his  stern  nature  was  tinc- 
tured with  genuine  enthusiasm.  Earnestness  beamed 
forth  in  every  feature.  His  soul  was  as  sincere  as  it 
was  unbending.  He  could  not  trifle,  even  with  the 
most  inconsiderable  subject.  Laughter  he  abhorred. 
He  could  smile,  but  there  was  little  contagion  in  his 
pleasantry.  It  surprised  more  than  it  pleased  you. 
Blended  with  this  deep,  scrutinizing,  earnest  and  en- 
thusiastic nature,  there  was  an  indefinable  something, 
shading  the  whole  character — it  might  have  been  early- 
sorrow,  or  loss  of  fortune,  or  baified  ambition,  or 
unrequited  love.  Still,  it  shone  forth  patent  to  the  ex- 
perienced eye,  enigmatical,  mysterious,  sombre.  There 
was  danger,  also,  in  it,  and  many,  who  knew  him  best, 
attributed  his  eccentricity  to  a  softened  phase  of 
insanity. 

But  the  most  marked  practical  trait  of  Pollexfen's 
character  was  his  enthusiasm  for  his  art.  He  studied 
its  history,  from  the  humble  hints  of  Nidpce  to  the 
glorious  triumphs  of  Farquer,  Bingham,  and  Bradley, 
with  all  the  soul-engrossing  fidelity  of  a  child,  and  spent 
many  a  midnight  hour  in  striving  to  rival  or  surpass 
them.  It  was  always  a  subject  of  astonishment  with 
me,  until  after  his  death,  how  it  happened  that  a  rough, 
athletic  seaman,  as  people  declared  he  was  originally, 
should  become  so  intensely  absorbed  in  a  science  re- 
quiring delicacy  of  taste,  and  skill  in  manipulation 
rather  than  power  of  muscle,  in  its  practical  application. 
But  after  carefully  examining  the  papers  tied  up  in  the 
same  package  with  his  last  will  and  testament,  I  ceased 
to  wonder,  and  sought  no  further  for  an  explanation. 


62  Caxton  s  Book. 

Most  prominent  amongst  these  carefully  preserved 
-documents  was  an  old  diploma,  granted  by  the  Uni- 
Tersity  of  Edinburgh,  in  the  year  1821,  to  "John  Pol- 
lexfen,  Gent.,  of  Hallicardin,  Perthshire,"  constituting 
him  Doctor  of  Medicine.  On  the  back  of  the  diploma, 
written  in  a  round,  clear  hand,  I  found  indorsed  as 
follows : 

Fifteen  years  of  my  life  have  I  lost  by  professing  mod- 
ern quackery.  Medicine  is  not  a  science,  properly  so  called. 
It  is  at  most  but  an  art.  He  best  succeeds  who  creates  his 
own  system.  Each  generation  adopts  its  peculiar  manual: 
Sangrado  to-day;  Thomson  to-morrow;  Hahnemann  the  day 
after.  Surgery  advances;  physic  is  stationary.  But  chem- 
istry, glorious  chemistry,  is  a  science.  Born  amid  dissolving 
Tuins,  and  cradled  upon  rollers  of  fire,  her  step  is  onward. 
At  her  side,  as  an  humble  menial,  henceforth  shall  be  found 

John  Pollexfen. 

The  indorsement  bore  no  date,  but  it  must  have  been 
written  long  before  his  immigration  to  California. 

Let  us  now  proceed  with  the  interview  between  the 
photographer  and  his  employee.  Repeating  the  question 
quickly,  "Who  gave  you  the  cue?"  demanded  Pollexfen. 

"  My  father  taught  me  drawing  and  painting,  but  my 
own  taste  suggested  the  coloring." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  really,  that  you  taught 
yourself.  Mile.  Marmont  ?"  and  as  he  said  this,  the  cold, 
gray  eye  lit  up  with  unwonted  brilliancy. 

"  What  I  say  is  true,"  replied  the  girl,  and  elevating 
her  own  lustrous  eyes,  they  encountered  his  own,  with 
a  glance  quite  as  steady. 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  sunlight,  and  examine  the  tints 
more  fully;"  and  leading  the  way  they  emerged  into  the 
sitting-room  where  customers  were  in  the  habit  of 
awaiting  the  artist's  pleasure. 

Here  the  pictures  were  again  closely  scrutinized,  but 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  fohii  Pollexfen.     63 

far  more  accurately  than  before;  and  after  fully  satisfy- 
ing his  curiosity  on  the  score  of  the  originality  of  the 
penciling,  approached  Lucile  very  closely,  and  darting 
Ms  wonderful  glance  into  the  depths  of  her  own  eyes, 
said,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "You  have  glorious  eyes." 

Lucile  was  about  to  protest,  in  a  hurried  way,  against 
-such  adulation,  when  he  continued :  ' '  Nay,  nay,  do  not 
deny  it.  Your  eyes  are  the  most  fathomless  orbs  that 
ever  I  beheld — large,  too,  and  lustrous — the  very  eyes 
I  have  been  searching  for  these  five  years  past.  A 
judge  of  color  ;  a  rare  judge  of  color  !  How  is  your 
father  to-day,  my  child?" 

The  tone  of  voice  in  which  this  last  remark  was  made 
had  in  it  more  of  the  curious  than  the  tender.  It 
seemed  to  have  been  propounded  more  as  a  matter  of 
business  than  of  feeling.  Still,  Lucile  replied  respect- 
fully, "Oh!  worse,  sir;  a  great  deal  worse.  Doctor 
White  declares  that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  recover, 
and  that  he  cannot  live  much  longer." 

"Not  live  ? "  replied  Pollexfen,  "not  live ?"  Then, 
as  if  musing,  he  solemnly  added,  * '  When  your  father 
is  dead,  Lucile,  come  to  me,  and  I  will  make  your 
fortune.  That  is,  if  you  follow  my  advice,  and  place 
yourself  exclusively  under  my  instructions.  Nay,  but 
jou  shall  earn  it  yourself.  See  !"  he  exclaimed,  and 
producing  a  bank  deposit-book  from  his  pocket,  "  See! 
here  have  I  seven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  in 
bank,  and  I  would  gladly  exchange  it  for  one  of  your 
■eyes." 

Astonishment  overwhelmed  the  girl,  and  she  could 
make  no  immediate  reply  ;  and  before  she  had  sufii- 
ciently  recovered  her  self-possession  to  speak,  the 
photographer  hastily  added,  "  Don't  wonder  ;  farewell, 
now.  Remember  what  I  have  said — seven  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  just  for  one  eye!" 


64  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

Lucile  was  glad  to  escape,  without  utteriug  a  syllable- 
Pursuing  lier  way  homewards,  she  pondered  deeply 
over  the  singular  remark  with  which  Pollexfen  closed 
the  conversation,  and  half  muttering,  said  to  herself, 
"  Can  he  be  in  earnest?  or  is  it  simply  the  odd  way  in 
which  an  eccentric  man  j^ays  a  compliment?"  But  long 
before  she  could  solve  the  enigma,  other  thoughts,  far 
more  engrossing,  took  sole  possession  of  her  mind. 

She  fully  realized  her  situation — a  dying  father,  and 
a  sick  lover,  both  dependent  in  a  great  measure  upon 
her  exertions,  and  she  herself  not  yet  past  her  seven- 
teenth year. 

On  reaching  home  she  found  the  door  wide  oj)en,  and 
Courtland  standing  in  the  entrance,  evidently  awaiting 
her  arrival.  As  she  approached,  their  eyes  met,  and  a 
glance  told  her  that  all  was  over. 

"  Dead  !"  softly  whispered  Courtland. 

A  stifled  sob  was  all  that  broke  from  the  lips  of  the- 
child,  as  she  fell  lifeless  into  the  arms  of  her  lover. 

I  pass  over  the  mournful  circumstances  attending  the 
funeral  of  the  exiled  Frenchman.  He  was  borne  to  his 
grave  by  a  select  few  of  his  countrymen,  whose  acquaint- 
ance he  had  made  during  his  short  residence  in  this  city. 
Like  thousands  of  others,  who  have  perished  in  our 
midst,  he  died,  and  "left  no  sign."  The  newspapers 
published  the  item  the  next  morning,  and  before  the 
sun  had  set  upon  his  funeral  rites  the  poor  man  was 
forgotten  by  all  except  the  immediate  persons  connected 
with  this  narrative. 

To  one  of  them,  at  least,  his  death  was  not  only  an 
important  event,  but  it  formed  a  great  epoch  in  her 
history. 

Lucile  was  transformed,  in  a  moment  of  time,  from 
a  helpless,  confiding,  affectionate  girl,  into  a  full-grown^ 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.      65 

self-dependent,  imperious  woman.  Such  revolutions,  I 
know,  are  rare  in  everyday  life,  and  but  seldom  occur; 
in  fact,  they  never  happen  except  in  those  rare  instances 
where  nature  has  stamped  a  character  with  the  elements 
of  inborn  originality  and  force,  which  accident,  or 
sudden  revulsion,  develops  at  once  into  full  maturity. 
To  such  a  soul,  death  of  an  only  parent  operates  like 
the  summer  solstice  upon  the  winter  snow  of  Siberia. 
It  melts  away  the  weakness  and  credulity  of  childhood 
almost  miraculously,  and  exhibits,  with  the  suddenness 
of  an  apparition,  the  secret  and  hitherto  unknown  traits 
that  will  forever  afterwards  distinguish  the  individual. 
The  explanation  of  this  curious  moral  phenomenon  con- 
sists simply  in  briugiug  to  the  surface  what  already  was 
in  existence  below;  not  in  the  instantaneous  creation  of 
new  elements  of  character.  The  tissues  were  already 
there;  circumstance  hardens  them  into  bone.  Thus  we 
sometimes  behold  the  same  marvel  produced  by  the  mar- 
riage of  some  characterless  girl,  whom  we  perhaps  had 
known  from  infancy,  and  whose  individuality  we  had 
associated  with  cake,  or  crinoline — a  gay  humming-bird 
of  social  life,  so  light  and  frivolous  and  unstable,  that, 
as  she  flitted  across  our  pathway,  we  scarcely  deigned 
her  the  compliment  of  a  thought.  Yet  a  week  or  a 
mouth  after  her  nuptials,  we  meet  the  self-same  warbler, 
not  as  of  old,  beneath  the  paternal  roof,  but  under  her 
own  "vine  and  fig-tree,"  and  in  astonishment  we  ask 
ourselves,  "Can  this  be  the  bread-and-butter  Miss  we 
passed  by  with  the  insolence  of  a  sneer,  a  short  time 
ago  ?"  Behold  her  now!  On  her  brow  sits  womanhood. 
Upon  her  features  beam  out  palpably  traits  of  great 
force  and  originality.  She  moves  with  the  majesty  of 
a  queen,  and  astounds  us  by  taking  a  leading  part  in  the 
discussion  of  questions  of  which  we  did  not  deem  she 
5 


66  Caxton  s  Book. 

ever  dreamed.  What  a  transformation  is  here!  Has 
nature  proven  false  to  herself?  Is  this  a  miracle  ?  Are 
all  her  laws  suspended,  that  she  might  transform,  in  an 
instant,  a  puling  trifler  into  a  perfect  woman?  Not  so, 
oh !  doubter.  Not  nature  is  false,  but  you  are  yourself 
ignorant  of  her  laws.  Study  Shakspeare;  see  Gloster 
woo,  and  win,  the  defiant,  revengeful  and  embittered 
Lady  Anne,  and  confess  in  your  humility  that  it  is  far 
more  probable  that  you  should  err,  than  that  Shakspeare 
should  be  mistaken. 

Not  many  days  after  the  death  of  M.  Marmont,  it 
was  agreed  by  all  the  friends  of  Lucile,  that  the  kind 
offer  extended  to  her  by  Pollexfen  should  be  accepted, 
and  that  she  should  become  domiciliated  in  his  house- 
hold. He  was  unmarried,  it  is  true,  but  still  he  kej)t 
up  an  establishment.  His  housekeeper  was  a  dear  old 
lady,  Scotch,  like  her  master,  but  a  direct  contrast  in 
every  trait  of  her  character.  Her  duties  were  not  many, 
nor  burdensome.  Her  time  was  chiefly  occupied  in 
family  matters — cooking,  washing,  and  feeding  the  pets 
— so  that  it  was  but  seldom  she  made  her  appearance 
in  any  other  apartment  than  those  entirely  beneath  her 
own  supervision. 

The  photographer  had  an  assistant  in  his  business,  a 
Chinaman;  and  upon  him  devolved  the  task  of  caring 
for  the  outer  offices. 

Courtland,  with  a  small  stock  of  money,  and  still 
smaller  modicum  of  health,  left  at  once  for  Bidwell's 
Bar,  where  he  thought  of  trying  his  fortune  once  more 
at  mining,  and  where  he  was  well  and  most  cordially 
known. 

It  now  only  remained  to  accompany  Lucile  to  her  new 
home,  to  see  her  safely  ensconced  in  her  new  quarters, 
to  speak  a  flattering  word  in  her  favor  to  Pollexfen,  and 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.      67 

then,  to  bid  her  farewell,  perhaps  forever.  All  this  was 
duly  accomplished,  and  with  good-bye  on  my  lips,  and 
a  sorrowful  sympathy  in  my  heart,  I  turned  away  from 
the  closing  door  of  the  photographer,  and  wended  my 
wa}'  homewards. 

Mademoiselle  Marmont  was  met  at  the  threshold  by 
Martha  McClintock,  the  housekeeper,  and  ushered  at 
once  into  the  inner  apartment,  situated  in  the  rear  of 
the  gallery. 

After  removing  her  veil  and  cloak,  she  threw  her- 
self into  an  arm-chair,  and  shading  her  eyes  with  both 
her  hands,  fell  into  a  deep  reverie.  She  had  been  in 
that  attitude  but  a  few  moments,  when  a  large  Maltese 
cat  leaped  boldly  into  her  lap,  and  began  to  court 
familiarity  by  purring  and  playing,  as  with  an  old  ac- 
quaintance. Lucile  cast  a  casual  glance  at  the  animal, 
and  noticed  immediately  that  it  had  but  one  eye!  Ex- 
pressing no  astonishment,  but  feeling  a  great  deal,  she 
cast  her  eyes  cautiously  around  the  apartment. 

Near  the  window  hung  a  large  tin  cage,  containing  a 
blue  African  parrot,  with  crimson-tipped  shoulders  and 
tail.  At  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  a  silken-haired  spaniel  was 
quietl}'  sleeping,  whilst,  outside  the  window,  a  bright 
little  canary  was  making  the  air  melodious  with  its 
happy  warbling.  A  noise  in  an  adjoining  room  aroused 
the  dog,  and  set  it  barking.  As  it  lifted  its  glossy  ears 
and  turned  its  graceful  head  toward  Lucile,  her  surprise 
was  enhanced  in  the  greatest  degree,  by  perceiving  that 
it,  too,  had  lost  an  eye.  Eising,  she  approached  the 
window,  impelled  by  a  curiosity  that  seemed  irresisti- 
ble. Peering  into  the  cage,  she  coaxed  the  lazy  parrot 
to  look  at  her,  and  her  amazement  was  boundless  when 
she  observed  that  the  poor  bird  was  marred  in  the  same 
mournful  manner.    Martha  witnessed  her  astonishment, 


68  Caxton  s  Book. 

and  indulged  in  a  low  laugh,  but  said  nothing.  At  this 
moment  Pollexfen  himself  entered  the  apartment,  and 
with  his  appearance  must  terminate  the  second  phase 
of  his  history. 


PHASE    THE    THIRD. 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me,  Mademoiselle  Marmont,"  said 
Pollexfen,  advancing  at  the  same  time  to  the  sofa,  and 
politely  making  way  for  the  young  lady,  who  followed 
almost  mechanically.  "You  must  not  believe  me  as  bad 
as  I  may  seem  at  first  sight,  for  Ave  all  have  redeeming 
qualities,  if  the  world  would  do  us  the  justice  to  seek  for 
them  as  industriously  as  for  our  faults." 

"I  am  very  well  able  to  believe  that,"  replied  Lucile, 
"for  my  dear  father  instructed  me  to  act  upon  the  maxim, 
that  good  predominates  over  evil,  even  in  this  life;  and 
I  feel  sure  that  I  need  fear  no  harm  beneath  the  roof  of 
the  only  real  benefactor " 

"Pshaw!  we  will  not  bandy  compliments  at  our  first 
sitting;  they  are  the  prelude  amongst  men,  to  hypocrisy 
first,  aud  wrong  afterwards.  May  I  so  far  transgress  the 
rules  of  common  politeness  as  to  ask  your  age?  Not  from 
idle  curiosity,  I  can  assure  you." 

"At  my  next  birthday,"  said  Lucile,  "I  shall  attain 
the  age  of  seventeen  years." 

"And  when  may  that  be?"  pursued  her  interlocutor. 
"I  had  hoped  you  were  older,  by  a  year." 

"My  birthday  is  the  18th  of  November,  and  really, 
sir,  I  am  curious  to  know  why  you  feel  any  disappoint- 
ment that  I  am  not  older." 

"Oh!  nothing  of  any  great  consequence;  only  this, 
that  by  the  laws  of  California,  on  reaching  the  £ige  of 
eighteen  you  become  the  sole  mistress  of  yourself." 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  yohn  Poll  ex  fen.      69 

"I  greatly  fear,"  timidly  added  the  girl,  "that  I  shall 
have  to  anticipate  the  law,  and  assume  that  responsibility 
at  once. 

"But  you  can  only  contract  through  a  guardian  before 
that  era  in  your  life;  and  in  the  agreement  hetiueen  us, 
that  is  to  he,  no  third  person  shall  intermeddle.  But  we 
will  not  now  speak  of  that.  You  must  consider  yourself 
my  equal  here;  there  must  be  no  secrets  to  hide  from 
each  other;  no  suspicions  engendered.  We  are  both 
artists.  Confidence  is  the  only  path  to  mutual  improve- 
ment. My  business  is  large,  but  my  ambition  to  excel 
greater,  far.  Listen  to  me,  child !"  and  suddenly  rising, 
so  as  to  confront  Lucile,  he  darted  one  of  those  magnetic 
glances  into  the  very  fortress  of  her  soul,  which  we  have 
before  attempted  to  describe,  and  added,  in  an  altered 
tone  of  voice,  "The  sun's  raybrush  paints  the  rainbow 
upon  the  evanescent  cloud,  and  photographs  an  iris  in 
the  skies.  The  human  eye  catches  the  picture  ere  it 
fades,  and  transfers  it  with  all  its  beauteous  tints  to  that 
prepared  albumen,  the  retina.  The  soul  sees  it  there, 
and  rejoices  at  the  splendid  spectacle.  Shall  insenate 
nature  outpaint  the  godlike  mind  ?  Can  she  leave  her 
brightest  colors  on  the  dark  collodion  of  a  thunder-cloud, 
and  I  not  transfer  the  blush  of  a  rose,  or  the  vermilion 
of  a  dahlia,  to  my  Rivi  or  Saxe?  No!  no!  I'll  not  believe 
it.  Let  us  work  together,  girl;  we'll  lead  the  age  we 
live  in.  My  name  shall  rival  Titian's,  and  you  shall 
yet  see  me  snatch  the  colors  of  the  dying  dolj)hin  from 
decay,  and  bid  them  live  forever." 

And  so  saying,  he  turned  with  a  suddenness  that 
startled  his  pupil,  and  strode  hastily  out  of  the  apart- 
ment. 

Unaccustomed,  as  Lucile  had  been  from  her  very  birth, 
to  brusque  manners,  like  those  of   the   photographer. 


JO  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

their  grotesqueness  impressed  lier  witli  an  indefinable 
relish  for  such  awkward  sincerity,  and  whetted  her 
appetite  to  see  more  of  the  man  whose  enthusiasm  always 
got  the  better  of  his  politeness. 

"He  is  no  Frenchman,"  thought  the  girl,  "but  I  like 
him  none  the  less.  He  has  been  very,  very  kind  to  me, 
and  I  am  at  this  moment  dependent  upon  him  for  my 
daily  bread."  Then,  changing  the  direction  of  her 
thoughts,  they  recurred  to  the  subject-matter  of  Pollex- 
fen's  discourse.  "Here,"  thought  she,  "lies  the  clue 
to  the  labyrinth.  If  insane,  his  madness  is  a  noble  one; 
for  he  would  link  his  name  with  the  progress  of  his  art. 
He  seeks  to  do  away  with  the  necessity  of  such  poor 
creatures  as  myself,  as  adjuncts  to  photography.  Nature, 
he  thinks,  should  lay  on  the  coloring,  not  man — the  Sun 
himself  should  paint,  not  the  human  hand."  And  with 
these,  and  kindred  thoughts,  she  opened  her  escritoire, 
and  taking  out  her  pencils  sat  down  to  the  performance 
of  her  daily  labor. 

Oh,  blessed  curse  of  Adam's  posterity,  healthful 
toil,  all  hail !  Offspring  of  sin  and  shame — still  heaven's 
best  gift  to  man.  Oh,  wondrous  miracle  of  Providence! 
divinest  alchemy  of  celestial  science!  by  which  the 
chastisement  of  the  progenitor  transforms  itself  into  a 
priceless  blessing  upon  the  offspring!  None  but  God 
himself  could  transmute  the  sweat  of  the  face  into  a 
panacea  for  the  soul.  How  many  myriads  have  been 
cured  by  toil  of  the  heart's  sickness  and  the  body's 
infirmities!  The  clink  of  the  hammer  drowns,  in  its 
music,  the  lamentations  of  pain  and  the  sighs  of  sorrow. 
Even  the  distinctions  of  rank  and  wealth  and  talents 
are  all  forgotten,  and  the  inequalities  of  stepdame  For- 
tune all  forgiven,  whilst  the  busy  whirls  of  industry  are 
bearing  us  onward  to  our  goal.     No  condition  in  life  is 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  PoUexfen.     Ji 

so  much  to  be  envied  as  his  who  is  too  busy  to  indulge 
in  reverie.  Health  is  his  companion,  happiness  his 
friend.  His  flee  from  his  presence  as  night-birds  from 
the  streaking  of  the  dawn.  Pale  Melancholy,  and  her 
sister  Insanity,  never  invade  his  dominions;  for  Mirth 
stands  sentinel  at  the  border,  and  Innocence  commands 
the  garrison  of  his  soul; 

Henceforth  let  no  man  war  against  fate  whose  lot  has 
been  cast  in  that  happy  medium,  equidistant  from  the 
lethargic  indolence  of  superabundant  wealth,  and  the 
abject  paralysis  of  straitened  poverty.  Let  them  toil 
on,  and  remember  that  God  is  a  worker,  and  strews 
infinity  with  revolving  worlds!  Should  he  forget,  in  a 
moment  of  grief  or  triumph,  of  gladness  or  desolation, 
that  being  born  to  toil,  in  labor  only  shall  he  find  con- 
tentment, let  him  ask  of  the  rivers  why  they  never  rest, 
of  the  sunbeams  why  they  never  pause.  Yea,  of  the 
great  globe  itself,  why  it  travels  on  forever  in  the  golden 
pathway  of  the  ecliptic^  and  nature,  from  her  thousand 
voices,  will  respond:  Motion  is  life,  inertia  is  death; 
action  is  health,  stagnation  is  sickness;  toil  is  glory, 
torpor  is  disgrace! 

I  cannot  say  that  thoughts  as  profound  as  these  found 
their  way  into  the  mind  of  Lucile,  as  she  plied  her  task, 
but  nature  vindicated  her  own  laws  in  her  case,  as  she 
will  always  do,  if  left  entirely  to  herself. 

As  day  after  day  and  week  after  week  rolled  by,  a 
softened  sorrow,  akin  only  to  grief — 

"  As  the  mist  resembles  the  rain  " — 
took  the   place  of  the  poignant  woe  which  had  over- 
whelmed her  at  first,  and  time  laid  a  gentle  hand  upon 
her  afflictions.     Gradually,  too,  she  became  attached  to 
her  art,  and  made  such  rapid  strides  towards  proficiency 


']2  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

that  Pollexfen  ceased,  finall}',  to  give  any  instruction,  or 
offer  any  hints  as  to  the  manner  in  which  she  ought  to 
paint.  Thus  her  own  taste  became  her  onl}'  guide;  and 
before  six  months  had  ehipsed  after  the  death  of  her 
father,  the  pictures  of  Pollexfen  became  celebrated 
throughout  the  city  and  state,  for  the  correctness  of 
their  coloring  and  the  extraordinary  delicacy  of  their 
finish.  His  gallery  was  daily  thronged  with  the  wealth, 
beauty  and  fashion  of  the  great  metropolis,  and  the  hue 
of  his  business  assumed  the  coloring  of  success. 

But  his  soul  was  the  slave  of  a  single  thought.  Tur- 
moil brooded  there,  like  darkness  over  chaos  ere  the 
light  pierced  the  deep  profound. 

During  the  six  months  which  we  have  just  said  had 
elapsed  since  the  domiciliation  of  Mile.  Marmont  be- 
neath his  roof,  he  had  had  many  long  and  perfectly 
frank  conversations  with  her,  upon  the  subject  which 
most  deeply  interested  him.  She  had  completely  fath- 
omed his  secret,  and  by  degrees  had  learned  to  sym- 
pathize with  him,  in  his  search  into  the  hidden  mysteries 
of  photographic  science.  She  even  became  the  fre- 
quent companion  of  his  chemical  experiments,  and 
night  after  night  attended  him  in  his  laboratory,  when 
the  lazy  world  around  them  was  buried  in  the  profound- 
est  repose. 

Still,  there  was  one  subject  which,  hitherto,  he  had 
not  broached,  and  that  was  the  one  in  which  she  felt  all 
a  woman's  curiosity — the  offer  to  furchase  an  eye.  She 
had  long  since  ascertained  the  story  of  the  one-eyed 
pets  in  the  parlor,  and  had  not  only  ceased  to  wonder, 
but  was  mentally  conscious  of  having  forgiven  Pollex- 
fen, in  her  own  enthusiasm  for  art. 

Finally,  a  whole  year  elapsed  since  the  death  of  her 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.     73 

father,  and  no  extraordinary  cliange  took  place  in  tlie 
relations  of  the  master  and  liis  pupil.  True,  each  day 
their  intercourse  became  more  unrestrained,  and  their 
art-association  more  intimate.  But  this  intimacy  was 
not  the  tie  of  personal  friendship  or  individual  esteem. 
It  began  in  the  laboratory,  and  there  it  ended.  Pollex- 
fen had  no  soul  except  for  his  art;  no  love  outside  of 
his  profession.  Money  he  seemed  to  care  for  but  little, 
except  as  a  means  of  supplying  his  acids,  salts  and 
plates.  He  rigorously  tested  every  metal,  in  its  iodides 
and  bromides;  industriously  coated  his  plates  with  every 
substance  that  could  be  albumenized,  and  plunged  his 
negatives  into  baths  of  every  mineral  that  could  be  re- 
duced to  the  form  of  a  vapor.  His  activity  was  prodig- 
ious; his  ingenuit}"  exhaustless,  his  industrj' absolutely 
boundless.  He  was  as  familiar  with  chemistry  as  he 
was  with  the  outlines  of  the  geography  of  Scotland. 
Every  headland,  spring  and  promontory  of  that  science 
he  knew  by  heart.  The  most  delicate  experiments  he 
performed  with  ease,  and  the  greatest  rapidity.  Na- 
ture seemed  to  have  endowed  him  with  a  native  apti- 
tude for  anal3'sis.  His  love  was  as  profound  as  it  was 
read}';  in  fact,  if  there  was  anything  he  detested  more 
than  loud  laughter,  it  was  superficiality.  He  instinct- 
ively pierced  at  once  to  the  roots  and  sources  of  things; 
and  never  rested,  after  seeing  an  effect,  until  he  groped 
his  way  back  to  the  cause.  "Never  stand  still,"  he 
would  often  say  to  his  pupil,  "where  the  ground  is 
boggy.  Eeacli  the  rock  before  j'ou  rest."  This  maxim 
was  the  great  index  to  his  character;  the  key  to  all  his 
researches. 

Time  fled  so  rapidly,  and  to  Lucile  so  pleasantly,  too, 
that  she  had  reached  the  very  verge  of  her  legal  matur- 


74  Caxton  s  Book. 

itj  before  she  once  deigned  to  bestow  a  thought  npon 
what  change,  if  any,  her  eighteenth  birthday  would 
bring  about.  A  few  days  preceding  her  accession  to 
majority,  a  large  package  of  letters  from  France,  via 
New  York,  arrived,  directed  to  M.  Marmont  himself, 
and  evidently  written  without  a  knowledge  of  his  death. 
The  bundle  came  to  my  care,  and  I  hastened  at  once  to 
deliver  it,  personally,  to  the  blooming  and  really  beau- 
tiful Lucile.  I  had  not  seen  her  for  many  months,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  so  great  an  improvement  in  her 
health  and  appearance.  Her  manners  were  more 
marked,  her  conversation  more  rapid  and  decided,  and 
the  general  contour  of  her  form  far  more  womanly.  It 
required  only  a  moment's  interview  to  convince  me  that 
she  possessed  unquestioned  talent  of  a  high  order,  and 
a  spirit  as  imperious  as  a  queen's.  Those  famous  eyes- 
of  hers,  that  had,  nearly  two  years  before,  attracted  in 
such  a  remarkable  manner  the  attention  of  Pollexfen, 
had  not  failed  in  the  least;  on  the  contrary,  time  had 
intensified  their  power,  and  given  them  a  depth  of 
meaning  and  a  dazzling  brilliancy  that  rendered  them 
almost  insufferably  brij^ht.  It  seemed  to  me  that  con- 
tact with  the  magnetic  gaze  of  the  photographer  had 
lent  them  something  of  his  own  expression,  and  I  con- 
fess that  when  my  eye  met  hers  fully  and  steadily,  mine 
was  always  the  first  to  droop. 

Knowing  that  she  was  in  full  correspondence  with 
her  lover,  I  asked  after  Courtland,  and  she  finally  told 
me  all  she  knew.  He  was  still  suffering  from  the 
effect  of  the  assassin's  blow,  and  very  recently  had  been 
attacked  by  inflammatory  rheumatism.  His  health 
seemed  permanently  impaired,  and  Lucile  wept  bitterly 
as  she  spoke  of  the  p  overty  in  which  they  were  both 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.      75 

plunged,  and  which  prevented  him  from  essaying  the 
only  remedy  that  promised  a  radical  ciire. 

"  Oh!  "  exclaimed  she,  "  were  it  only  in  our  power  to 
visit  La  helle  France,  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  Dau- 
phiny,  to  sport  amid  the  lakes  of  the  Alps,  to  repose 
beneath  the  elms  of  Chalons!" 

"Perhaps,"  said  I,  "the  very  letters  now  unopened 
in  your  hands  may  invite  you  back  to  the  scenes  of 
your  childhood." 

"Alas!  no,"  she  rejoined,  "I  recognize  the  hand- 
writing of  my  widowed  aunt,  and  I  tremble  to  break 
the  seal." 

Kising  shortly  afterwards,  I  bade  her  a  sorrowful 
farewell. 

Lucile  sought  her  private  apartment  before  she  ven- 
tured to  unseal  the  dispatches.  Many  of  the  letters 
were  old,  and  had  been  floating  between  New  York  and 
Havre  for  more  than  a  twelvemonth.  One  was  of  re- 
cent date,  and  that  was  the  first  one  perused  by  the 
niece.  Below  is  a  free  translation  of  its  contents.  It 
bore  date  at  "  Bordeaux,  July  12,  1853,"  and  ran  thus: 

Ever  dear  and  beloved  Brother: 

Why  have  we  never  heard  from  you  since  the  beginning  of 
1851?  "  Alas!  I  fear  some  terrible  misfortune  has  overtaken 
you,  and  overwhelmed  your  whole  family.  Many  times 
have  I  written  during  that  long  period,  and  prayed,  oh!  so 
promptly,  that  God  would  take  you,  and  yours,  in  His  holy 
keeping.  And  then  our  dear  Lucile!  Ah!  what  a  life  must 
be  in  store  for  her,  in  that  wild  and  distant  land!  Beg  of 
her  to  return  to  France;  and  do  not  fail,  also,  to  come 
yourself.  We  have  a  new  Emperor,  as  you  must  long  since 
have  learned,  in  the  person  of  Louis  Bonaparte,  nephew 
of  the  great  Napoleon.  Your  reactionist  principles  against 
Cavaiguac  and  his  colleagues,  can  be  of  no  disservice  to  you 
at  present.  Napoleon  is  lenient.  He  has  even  recalled 
Louis  Blanc.     Come,  and  apply  for  restitution  of  the  old 


76  Caxton  s  Book. 

estates;    come,  and  be  a  protector  of  my  seven  orphans, 
now,  alas!  suffering  even  for  the  common  necessaries  of  life. 
Need  a  fond  bister  say  more  to  her  only  living  brother? 
Thine,  as  in  childhood, 

Annette. 

"Misfortunes  pour  like  a  pitiless  winter  storm  upon 
my  devoted  head,"  thought  Lucile,  as  she  replaced  the 
letter  in  its  envelope.  "Parents  dead;  aunt  broken- 
hearted; cousins  starving,  and  I  not  able  to  afford 
relief.  I  cannot  even  moisten  their  sorrows  with  a  tear. 
I  would  weep,  but  rebellion  against  fate  rises  in  ray 
soul,  and  dries  up  the  fountain  of  tears.  Had  Heaven 
made  me  a  man  it  would  not  have  been  thus.  I  have 
something  here,"  she  exclaimed,  rising  from  her  seat 
and  placing  her  hand  upon  her  forehead,  "that  tells 
me  I  could  do  and  dare,  and  endure." 

Her  further  soliloquy  was  here  interrupted  by  a  dis- 
tinct rap  at  her  door,  and  on  pronouncing  the  word 
"enter,"  Pollexfen,  for  the  first  time  since  she  became 
a  member  of  his  family,  strode  heavily  into  her  cham- 
ber. Lucile  did  not  scream,  or  protest,  or  manifest 
either  surprise  or  displeasure  at  this  unwonted  and  un- 
invited visit.  She  politely  pointed  to  a  seat,  and  the 
photographer,  without  apology  or  hesitation,  seized  the 
chair,  and  moving  it  so  closely  to  her  own  that  they 
came  in  contact,  seated  himself  without  uttericg  a  syl- 
lable. Then,  drawing  a  document  from  his  breast 
pocket,  which  was  folded  formally,  and  sealed  with  two 
seals,  but  subscribed  only  with  one  name,  he  proceeded 
to  read  it  from  beginning  to  end,  in  a  slow,  distinct, 
and  unfaltering  tone. 

I  have  the  document  before  me,  as  I  write,  and  I 
here  insert  a  full  and  correct  copy.  It  bore  date  just 
one  month  subsequent  to  the  time  of  the  interview,  and 


Phases  hi  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfeji,     yj 

was  intended,  doubtless,  to  afford  his  pupil  full  oppor- 
tunity for  consultation  before  requesting  her  signature : 

®UiS  ^JUleittUl'C,  Made  tins  nineteenth  day  of  November, 
A.  D.  1853,  by  John  Pollexfen,  photographer,  of  the  first  part, 
and  Liicile  Marmont,  artiste,  of  the  second  part,  both  of  the 
city  of  San  Francisco,  and  State  of  California,  Witnesseth : 

Whereas,  the  part}'  of  the  first  part  is  desirous  of  obtain- 
ing a  living,  sentient,  human  eye,  of  perfect  organism,  and 
unquestioned  strength,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  chemical 
analysis  and  experiment  in  the  lawful  prosecution  of  his 
studies  as  photograph  chemist.  And  whereas,  the  party  of 
the  second  part  can  supply  the  desideratum  aforesaid.  Ani> 
WHEREAS  FURTHER,  the  first  party  is  willing  to  purchase,  and 
the  second  party  willing  to  sell  the  same: 

Now,  THEREFORE,  the  Said  John  Pollexfen,  for  and  in  con- 
sideration of  such  eye,  to  be  by  him  safely  and  instanta- 
neously removed  from  its  left  socket,  at  the  rooms  of  said 
Pollexfen,  on  Monday,  November  19,  at  the  hour  of  eleven 
o'clock  p.  M.,  hereby  undertakes,  promises  and  agrees,  to  pay 
unto  the  said  Lucile  Marmont,  in  current  coin  of  the  United 
States,  in  advance,  the  full  and  just  sum  of  seven  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars.  And  the  said  Lucile  Marmont,  on  her 
part,  hereby  agrees  and  covenants  to  sell,  and  for  and  in 
consideration  of  the  said  sum  of  seven  thousand  and  five 
hundred  dollars,  does  hereby  sell,  unto  the  said  Pollexfen, 
her  left  eye,  as  aforesaid,  to  be  by  him  extracted,  in  time, 
place  and  manner  above  set  forth ;  only  stipulating  on  her 
part,  further,  that  said  money  shall  be  deposited  in  the 
Bank  of  Page,  Bacon  &  Co.  on  the  morning  of  that  day,  in 
the  name  of  her  attorney  and  agent,  Thomas  J.  Falconer, 
Esq.,  for  her  sole  and  separate  use. 

As  witness  our  hands  and  seals,  this  nineteenth  day  of 
November,  A.  D.  1853. 

(Signed)  John  Pollexfen,     [l.  s.] 

[L-  s.] 

Having  finished  the  perusal,  the  photographer  looked 
up,  and  the  eyes  of  his  pupil  encountered  his  own. 

And  here  terminates  the  third  phase  in  the  history  of 
John  Pollexfen. 


78  Caxton  s  Book. 

PHASE     THE     FOURTH. 

The  coufronting  glance  of  the  master  and  his  pupil 
was  not  one  of  those  casual  encounters  of  the  eye 
which  lasts  but  for  a  second,  and  terminates  in  the 
almost  instantaneous  withdrawal  of  the  vanquished  orb. 
On  the  contrary,  the  scrutiny  was  long  and  painful. 
Each  seemed  determined  to  conquer,  and  both  knew 
that  flight  was  defeat,  and  quailing  ruin.  The  photog- 
rapher felt  a  consciousness  of  superiority  in  himself, 
in  his  cause  and  his  intentions.  These  being  pure  and 
commendable,  he  experienced  no  sentiment  akin  to  the 
weakness  of  guilt.  The  girl,  on  the  other  hand,  strug- 
gled with  the  emotions  of  terror,  curiosity  and  defiance. 
He  thought,  "Will  she  yield?"  She,  "Is  this  man  in 
earnest?"  Neither  seemed  inclined  to  speak,  yet  both 
grew  impatient. 

Nature  finally  vindicated  her  own  law,  that  the  most 
powerful  intellect  must  magnetize  the  weaker,  and 
Lucile,  dropping  her  eye,  said,  with  a  sickened  smile, 
■"Sir,  are  you  jesting?" 

"I  am  incapable  of  trickery,"  dryly  responded 
Pollexfen. 

"  But  not  of  delusion  ?"  suggested  the  girl. 

"A  fool  may  be  deceived,  a  chemist  never." 

"  And  you  would  have  the  fiendish  cruelty  to  tear  out 
one  of  my  eyes  before  I  am  dead  ?  Why,  even  the  vul- 
ture waits  till  his  prey  is  carrion." 

"I  am  not  cruel,"  he  responded  ;  "I  labor  under  no 
delusion.  I  pursue  no  phantom.  Where  I  now  stand 
experiment  forced  me.  With  the  rigor  of  a  mathemati- 
cal demonstration  I  have  been  driven  to  the  proposition 
set  forth  in  this  agreement.  Nature  cannot  lie.  The 
€arth  revolves  because  it  must.     Causation  controls  the 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.     79 

tiniverse.  Men  speak  of  accidents,  but  a  fortuitous  cir- 
cumstance never  happened  since  matter  moved  at  the 
fiat  of  the  Almighty.  Is  it  chance  that  the  prism  decom- 
poses a  ray  of  light  ?  Is  it  chance,  that  by  mixing 
hj'drogen  and  oxygen  in  the  proportion  of  two  to  one 
in  volume,  water  should  be  the  result?  How  can 
Nature  err  ?  " 

"  She  cannot,"  Lucile  responded,  "but  man  may." 
"That  argues  that  I,  too,  am  but  human,  and  may  fall 
into  the  common  category." 
"Such  was  my  thought." 

"Then  banish  the  idea  forever.    I  deny  not  that  I  am 
but  mortal,  but  man  was  made  in  the  image  of  God. 
Truth  is  as  clear  to  the  perception  of  the  creature,  ichen 
■seen  at  all,  as  it  is  to  that  of  the  Creator.     What  is  man 
but  a  finite  God?     He  moves  about  his  little  universe 
its  sole  monarch,  and  with  all  the  absoluteness  of  a  deity, 
controls  its  motions  and  settles  its  destiny.     He  may 
not  be  able  to  number  the  sands  on  the  seashore,  but 
he  can  count  his  flocks  and  herds.     He  may  not  create 
a  comet,  or  overturn  a  world,  but  he  can  construct  the 
springs  of  a  watch,  or  the  wheels  of  a  mill,  and  they 
obey  him  as  submissively  as  globes  revolve  about  their 
ceutres,  or  galaxies  tread  in  majesty  the  measureless 
fields  of  space! 

"For  years,"  exclaimed  he,  rising  to  his  feet,  and 
fixing  his  eagle  glance  upon  his  pupil,  "for  long  and 
weary  years,  I  have  studied  the  laws  of  light,  color,  and 
motion.  Why  are  my  pictures  sharper  in  outline,  and 
truer  to  nature,  than  those  of  rival  artists  around  me  ? 
Poor  fools!  whilst  they  slavishly  copied  what  nobler 
natures  taught,  I  boldly  trod  in  unfamiliar  paths.  I 
invented,  whilst  they  traveled  on  the  beaten  highway. 
Look  at  my  lenses !     They  use  glass — yes,  common  glass 


8o  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

— with  a  spectral  power  of  10,  because  they  catch  up 
the  childish  notion  of  Dawson,  and  Harwick,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  prepare  the  most  beautiful  substance  in 
nature,  next  to  the  diamond — crjstalized  qaartz — for  the 
purposes  of  art.  Yet  quartz  has  a  power  of  refraction 
equal  to  74!  Could  John  Pollexfen  sleep  qiaietly  in  his 
bed  whilst  such  an  outrage  was  being  perpetrated  daily 
against  God  and  His  universe?  No!  Lucile;  never! 
Yon  snowy  hills  conceal  in  their  bosoms  treasures  far 
richer  than  the  sheen  of  gold.  With  a  single  blast  I 
tore  away  a  ton  of  crystal.  How  I  cut  and  polished  it 
is  my  secret,  not  the  world's.  The  result  crowds  my 
gallery  daily,  whilst  theirs  are  half  deserted." 

"And  are  you  not  satisfied  with  your  success?"  de- 
manded the  girl,  whose  own  eye  began  to  dilate,  and 
gleam,  as  it  caught  the  kindred  spark  of  enthusiasm 
from  the  flaming  orbs  of  Pollexfen. 

"Satisfied!"  cried  he;  "satisfied!  Not  until  my  ca?72e7-a 
flashes  back  the  silver  sheen  of  the  planets,  and  the 
golden  twinkle  of  the  stars.  Not  until  earth  and  all  her 
daughters  can  behold  themselves  in  yon  mirror,  clad  in 
their  radiant  robes.  Not  until  each  hue  of  the  rainbow, 
each  tint  of  the  flower,  and  the  fitful  glow  of  roseate 
beauty,  changeful  as  the  tinge  of  summer  sunsets,  have 
all  been  captured,  copied,  and  embalmed  forever  by  the 
triumphs  of  the  human  mind!  Least  of  all,  could  I  be 
satisfied  now  at  the  verv  advent  of  a  nobler  era  in  my 
art." 

"  And  do  you  really  believe,"  iuqviired  Lucile,  "  that 
color  can  be  photographed  as  faithfully  as  light  and 
shade  ?" 

"Believe,  girl?  I  knoiu  it.  Does  not  your  own 
beautiful  eye  print  upon  its  retina  tints,  dyes  and  hues 
innumerable  ?     And  what  is  the  eye  but  a  lens  ?     God 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  Johi  Pollexfe7i.     8 1 

was  tlie  first  pliotograplier.  Give  me  but  a  living,  sen- 
tient, perfect  human  eye  to  dissect  and  analyze,  and  I 
swear  by  the  holy  book  of  science  that  I  will  detect 
the  secret,  though  hidden  deep  down  in  the  primal 
particles  of  matter." 

"  And  why  a  human  eye?  Why  not  an  eagle's  or  a 
lion's  ?" 

"A  question  I  once  propounded  to  myself,  and  never 
rested  till  it  was  solved,"  replied  Pollexfen.  "Go  into 
my  parlor,  and  ask  my  pets  if  I  have  not  been  diligent, 
faithful,  and  honest.  I  have  tested  every  eye  but  the 
human.  From  the  dull  shark's  to  the  imperial  con- 
dor's, I  have  tried  them  all.  Months  elapsed  ere  I  dis- 
covered the  error  in  my  reasoning.  Finally,  a  little 
boy  explained  it  all.  '  Mother,'  said  a  child,  in  my 
hearing,  '  when  the  pigeons  mate,  do  they  choose  the 
prettiest  birds?'  'No,'  said  his  mother.  'And  why 
not  ?'  pursued  the  boy.  Because,  responded  I,  waking 
as  from  a  dream,  tliey  have  no  perception  of  coloi^ !  The 
animal  world  sports  in  light  and  shade;  the  human  only 
rejoices  in  the  apprehension  of  color.  Does  the  horse 
admire  the  rainbow  ?  or  does  the  ox  spare  the  butter- 
cup and  the  violet,  because  they  are  beautiful?  The 
secret  lies  in  the  human  eye  alone.  An  eye!  an  eye! 
give  me  but  one,  Lucile!" 

As  the  girl  was  about  to  answer,  the  photographer 
again  interposed,  "  Not  now;  I  want  no  answer  now;  I 
give  you  a  month  for  reflection."  And  so  saying,  he 
left  the  room  as  unceremoniously  as  he  had  entered. 

The  struggle  in  the  mind  of  Lucile  was  sharp  and 
decisive.  Dependent  herself  upon  her  daily  labor,  her 
lover  an  invalid,  and  her  nearest  kindred  starving,  were 
facts  that  spoke  in  deeper  tones  than  the  thunder  to  her 
soul.      Besides,    was   not  one  eye   to  be  spared   her, 

6 


82  Caxton  s  Book. 

and  was  not  a  single  eye  quite  as  good  as  two  ?  She 
tliouglit,  too,  Low  glorious  it  would  be  if  Pollexfen 
should  not  be  mistaken,  and  she  herself  should  con- 
duce so  essentially  to  the  noblest  triumph  of  the  pho- 
tographic art. 

A  shade,  however,  soon  overspread  her  glowing  face, 
as  the  unbidden  idea  came  forward:  "And  will  my 
lover  still  be  faithful  to  a  mutilated  bride?  Will  not 
my  beauty  be  marred  forever?  But,"  thought  she,  "is 
not  this  sacrifice  for  him  ?  Oh,  yes !  we  shall  cling  still 
more  closely  in  consequence  of  the  very  misfortune  that 
renders  our  union  possible."  One  other  doubt  sug- 
gested itself  to  her  mind:  "Is  this  contract  legal?  Can 
it  be  enforced  ?  If  so,"  and  here  her  compressed  lips, 
her  dilated  nostril,  and  her  clenched  hand  betokened 
her  decision,  "  if  so,  1  yield!'''' 

Three  weeks  passed  quickly  away,  and  served  but 
to  strengthen  the  determination  of  Lucile.  At  the  ex- 
piration of  that  period,  and  just  one  week  before  the 
time  fixed  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  cruel  scheme, 
I  was  interrupted,  during  the  trial  of  a  cause,  by  the 
entry  of  my  clerk,  with  a  short  note  from  Mademoiselle 
Marmont,  requesting  my  immediate  presence  at  the 
office.  Apologizing  to  the  judge,  and  to  my  associate 
counsel,  I  hastily  left  the  court-room. 

On  entering,  I  found  Lucile  completely  veiled.  Nor 
was  it  possible,  during  our  interview,  to  catch  a  single 
glimpse  of  her  features.  She  rose,  and  advancing  to- 
ward me,  extended  her  hand;  whilst  pressing  it  I  felt  it 
tremble. 

"Eead  this  document,  Mr.  Falconer,  and  advise  me 
as  to  its  legality.  I  seek  no  counsel  as  to  my  duty.  My 
mind  is  unalterably  fixed  on  that  subject,  and  I  beg  of 
you,  as  a  favor,  in  advance,  to  spare  yourself  the  trouble, 
and  me  the  pain,  of  reopening  it." 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  yoh?i  Pollexfeii.     83 

If  the  speech,  and  the  tone  in  which  it  was  spoken, 
surprised  me,  I  need  not  state  how  overwhelming  was 
my  astonishment  at  the  contents  of  the  document.  I 
was  absolutely  stunned.  The  paper  fell  from  my  hands 
as  though  they  were  paralyzed.  Seeing  my  embarrass- 
ment, Lucile  rose  and  paced  the  room  in  an  excited 
manner.  Finally  pausing,  opposite  my  desk,  she  in- 
quired,  **Do  you  require  time  to  investigate  the  law?" 

"Not  an  instant,"  said  I,  recovering  my  self-posses- 
sion. "This  paper  is  not  only  illegal,  but  the  execu- 
tion of  it  an  oftense.  It  provides  for  the  perpetration 
of  the  crime  of  mayhem,  and  it  is  my  duty,  as  a  good 
citizen,  to  arrest  the  wretch  who  can  contemplate  so 
heinous  and  inhuman  an  act,  without  delay.  See!  he 
has  even  had  the  insolence  to  insert  my  own  name  as 
paymaster  for  his  villainy." 

"I  did  not  visit  your  office  to'hear  my  benefactor  and 
friend  insulted,"  ejaculated  the  girl,  in  a  bitter  and  de- 
fiant tone.  "I  only  came  to  get  an  oj^inion  on  a  matter 
of  law." 

"But  this  monster  is  insane,  utterly  crazy,"  retorted 
I.     "He  ought,  this  moment,  to  be  in  a  madhouse." 

"Where  they  did  put  Tasso,  and  tried  to  put  Gali- 
leo," she  rejoined. 

"In  the  name  of  the  good  God!"  said  I,  solemnly, 
* '  are  you  in  earnest  ?" 

"Were  I  not,  I  should  not  be  here." 

' '  Then  our  conversation  must  terminate  just  where  it 
began." 

Lucile  deliberately  took  her  seat  at  my  desk,  and 
seizing  a  pen  hastily  affixed  her  signature  to  the  agree- 
ment, and  rising,  left  the  office  without  uttering  another 
syllable. 

"I  have,  at  least,  the  i^aper,"  thought  I,  "and  that  I 
intend  to  keep." 


84  Caxfojis  Book. 

My  plans  were  soon  laid.  I  sat  down  and  addressed 
a  most  pressing  letter  to  Mr.  Courtland,  informing  liim 
fully  of  the  plot  of  the  lunatic,  for  so  I  then  regarded 
him,  and  urged  him  to  hasten  to  San  Francisco  without 
a  moment's  delay.  Then,  seizing  my  hat,  I  made  a  most 
informal  call  on  Dr.  White,  and  consulted  him  as  to 
the  best  means  of  breaking  through  the  conspiracy. 
We  agreed  at  once  that,  as  Pollexfen  had  committed  no 
overt  act  in  violation  of  law,  he  could  not  be  legally 
arrested,  but  that  information  must  be  lodged  Avith  th& 
chief  of  police,  requesting  him  to  detail  a  trustworthy 
officer,  whose  duty  it  should  be  to  obey  us  implicitly, 
and  be  ready  to  act  at  a  moment's  notice. 

All  this  was  done,  and  the  officer  duly  assigned  for 
duty.  His  name  was  Oloudsdale.  We  explained  to  him 
fully  the  nature  of  the  business  intrusted  to  his  keep- 
ing, and  took  great  pains  to  impress  upon  him  the  ne- 
cessity of  vigilance  and  fidelity.  He  entered  into  the- 
scheme  with  alacrity,  and  was  most  profuse  in  hi& 
promises. 

Our  settled  plan  was  to  meet  at  the  outer  door  of  the 
photographer's  gallery,  at  half-past  ten  o'clock  p.m.,  on 
the  19th  of  November,  1853,  and  shortly  afterwards  to 
make  our  way,  by  stratagem  or  force,  into  the  presence 
of  Pollexfen,  and  arrest  him  on  the  spot.  We  hoped  to 
find  such  preparations  on  hand  as  would  justify  the 
arrest,  and  secure  his  punishment.  If  not,  Lucile  was- 
te be  removed,  at  all  events,  and  conducted  to  a  place 
of  safety.  Such  was  the  general  outline.  During  the 
week  we  had  frequent  conferences,  and  Cloudsdale 
efiected  an  entrance,  on  two  occasions,  upon  some  slight 
pretext,  into  the  room  of  the  artist.  Bat  he  could  dis- 
cover nothing  to  arouse  suspicion;  so,  at  least,  he  in- 
formed us.     During  the  morning  of  the  19th,  a  warrant 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfen.     85 

of  arrest  was  duly  issued,  and  lodged  in  the  bands  of 
Cloudsdale  for  execution.  He  then  bade  ns  good  morn- 
ing, and  urged  us  to  be  promptly  on  the  ground  at  half- 
past  ten.  He  told  us  that  he  had  another  arrest  to  make 
on  the  Sacramento  boat,  when  she  arrived,  but  would 
not  be  detained  five  minutes  at  the  police  office.  This 
was  annoying,  but  we  submitted  with  the  best  grace 
possible. 

During  the  afternoon,  I  got  another  glimpse  at  our 
"trusty."  The  steamer  left  for  Panama  at  one  p.m., 
and  I  went  on  board  to  bid  adieu  to  a  friend  who  was  a 
passenger. 

Cloudsdale  was  also  there,  and  seemed  anxious  and 
restive.  He  told  me  that  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  a 
highway  robber,  who  had  been  tracked  to  the  city,  and 
it  might  be  possible  that  he  was  stowed  away  secretly 
on  the  ship.  Having  business  up  town,  I  soon  left,  and 
went  away  with  a  heavy  heart. 

As  night  approached  I  grew  more  and  more  nervous, 
for  the  party  most  deeply  interested  in  preventing  this 
crime  had  not  made  his  appearance.  Mr.  Courtland 
had  not  reached  the  city.  Sickness,  or  the  miscarriage 
of  my  letter,  was  doubtless  the  cause. 

The  Doctor  and  myself  supped  together,  and  then 
proceeded  to  my  chambers,  where  we  armed  ourselves 
as  heavily  as  though  we  were  about  to  fight  a  battle. 
We  were  both  silent.  The  enormity  of  Pollexfen's  con- 
templated crime  struck  us  dumb.  The  evening,  however, 
wore  painfull}^  away,  and  finally  our  watches  pointed  to 
the  time  when  we  should  take  our  position,  as  before 
-agreed  upon. 

We  were  the  first  on  the  ground.  Tliis  we  did  not 
specially  notice  then;  but  when  five,  then  ten,  and  next, 


86  Caxton  s  Book. 

fifteen  minutes  elapsed,  and  the  ofl&cer  still  neglected  io 
make  his  appearance,  our  uneasiness  became  extreme. 
Twenty — tiuentij-five  minutes  passed;  still  Cloudsdal© 
was  unaccountably  detained.  "Can  he  be  already  in 
the  rooms  above?"  we  eagerly  asked  one  another. 
"Are  we  not  betrayed  ?"  exclaimed  I,  almost  frantically. 

"We  have  no  time  to  spare  in  discussion,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  and,  advancing,  we  tried  the  door.  It  was. 
locked.  We  had  brought  a  step-ladder,  to  enter  by  the 
window,  if  necessary.  Next,  we  endeavored  to  hoist. 
the  window;  it  was  nailed  down  securely.  Leaping  ta 
the  ground  we  made  an  impetuous,  united  onset  against 
the  door;  but  it  resisted  all  our  efforts  to  burst  it  in. 
Acting  now  with  all  the  promptitude  demanded  by  the 
occasion,  we  mounted  the  ladder,  and  by  a  simultaneous 
movement  broke  the  sash,  and  leaped  into  the  room. 
Groping  our  way  hurriedly  to  the  stairs,  we  had  placed 
our  feet  upon  the  first  step,  when  our  ears  were  saluted 
with  one  long,  loud,  agonizing  shriek.  The  next  instant 
we  rushed  into  the  apartment  of  Lucile,  and  beheld  a 
sight  that  seared  our  own  eyeballs  with  horror,  and 
baffles  any  attempt  at  description. 

Before  our  faces  stood  the  ferocious  demon,  holding, 
in  his  arms  the  fainting  girl,  and  hurriedly  clipping, 
with  a  pair  of  shears,  the  last  muscles  and  integuments- 
which  held  the  organ  in  its  place. 

"Hold!  for  God's  sake,  hold!"  shouted  Dr.  White, 
and  instantly  grappled  with  the  giant.  Alas!  alas!  it 
was  too  late,  forever!  The  work  had  been  done;  the 
eye  torn,  bleeding,  from  its  socket,  and  just  as  the  Doc- 
tor laid  his  arm  upon  Pollexfen,  the  ball  fell,  dripping 
with  gore,  into  his  left  hand. 

This  is  the  end  of  the  fourth  phase. 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  fohn  Pollexfen.     87 

PHASE  THE  FIFTH,  AND  LAST. 

"Monster,"  cried  I,  "we  arrest  you  for  tlie  crime  of 
mayhem." 

"  Perhaps,  gentlemen,"  said  the  photographer,  '•'  you 
will  be  kind  enough  to  exhibit  your  warrant."  As  he 
said  this,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  with  his  right  hand, 
the  writ  of  arrest  which  had  been  intrusted  to  Clouds- 
dale,  and  deliberately  lighting  it  in  the  candle,  burned 
it  to  ashes  before  we  could  arrest  his  movement.  Lucile 
had  fallen  upon  a  ready  prepared  bed,  in  a  fit  of  pain, 
and  fainting.  The  Doctor  took  his  place°at  her  side,  his 
own  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and  his  very  soul  heav- 
ing with  agitation. 

As  for  me,  my  heart  was  beating  as  audibly  as  a  drum. 
With  one  hand  I  grappled  the  collar  of  Pollexfen,  and 
with  the  other  held  a  cocked  pistol  at  his  head. 

He  stood  as  motionless  as  a  statue.  Not  a  nerve 
trembled  nor  a  tone  faltered,  as  he  spoke  these  words: 
"I  am  most  happy  to  see  you,  gentlemen;  especially 
the  Doctor,  for  he  can  relieve  me  of  the  duties  of  sur- 
geon. You,  sir,  can  assist  him  as  nurse."  And  shaking 
off  my  hold  as  though  it  had  been  a  child's,  he  sprang 
into  the  laboratory  adjoining,  and  locked  the  door  as 
quick  as  thought. 

The  insensibility  of  Lucile  did  not  last  long.  Con- 
sciousness returned  gradually,  and  with  it  pain  of  the 
most  intense  description.  Still  she  maintained  a  rigid- 
ness  of  feature,  and  an  intrepidity  of  soul  that  excited 
both  sorrow  and  admiration.  "Poor  child!  poor 
child ! "  was  all  we  could  utter,  and  even  that  spoken 
in  whispers.  Suddenly  a  noise  in  the  laboratory  at- 
tracted attention.     Rising,  I  went  close  to  the  door. 

"Two  to  one  in   measure;  eight   to  one  in  weight; 


88  Caxton  s  Book. 

water,  only  water,"  soliloquized  the  photograplier.  Then 
silence.  "Phosphorus;  yellow  in  color;  burns  in  oxy- 
gen."    Silence  again. 

"  Good  God!"  cried  I,  "  Doctor,  he  is  analyzing  her 
eye !    The  fiend  is  actually  performiug  his  incantations !" 

A  moment  elapsed.  A  sudden,  sharp  explosion;  then 
a  fall,  as  if  a  chair  had  been  upset,  and 

"Carbon  in  combustion!  Carbon  in  combustion!" 
in  a  wild,  excited  tone,  broke  from  the  lips  of  Pollexfen, 
and  the  instant  afterwards  he  stood  at  the  bedside  of  his 
pupil.     * '  Lucile !  Lucile !  the  secret  is  ours ;  ours  only ! " 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  girl  lifted  herself  from 
her  pillow,  whilst  he  proceeded:  "  Carbon  in  combus- 
tion; I  saw  it  ere  the  light  died  from  the  eyeball." 

A  smile  lighted  the  pale  face  of  the  girl  as  she  faintly 
responded,  "  Eegulus  gave  both  eyes  for  his  country; 
I  have  given  but  one  for  my  art." 

Pressing  both  hands  to  my  throbbing  brow,  I  asked 
myself,  "  Can  this  be  real?  Do  I  dream?  If  real,  why 
do  I  not  assassinate  the  fiend?  Doctor,"  said  I,  "we 
must  move  Lucile.     I  will  seek  assistance." 

"Not  so,"  responded  Pollexfen;  the  excitement  of 
motion  might  bring  on  erysipelas,  or  still  worse,  tetanus. 

A  motion  from  Lucile  brought  me .  to  her  bedside. 
Taking  from  beneath  her  pillow  a  bank  deposit-book, 
and  placing  it  in  my  hands,  she  requested  me  to  hand 
it  to  Courtland  the  moment  of  his  arrival,  which  she 
declared  would  be  the  20th,  and  desire  him  to  read  the 
billet  attached  to  the  banker's  note  of  the  deposit. 
"Tell  him,"  she  whispered,  "not  to  love  me  less  in 
my  mutilation;"  and  again  she  relapsed  into  uncon- 
sciousness. 

The  photographer  now  bent  over  the  senseless  form 
of  his  victim,  and  muttering,  "Yes,  carbon  in  combus- 
tion," added,  in  a  softened  tone,  "Poor  girl  1"     As  he 


Phases  iii  the  Life  of  fohn  Pollexfen.     89 

lifted  his  face,  I  detected  a  solitary  tear  course  down 
his  impressive  features.  "  The  first  I  have  shed,"  said 
he,  sternly,  "since  my  daughter's  death." 

Saying  nothing,  I  could  only  think — "And  this  wretch 
once  had  a  child  ! " 

The  long  night  through  we  stood  around  her  bed. 
IVith  the  dawn,  Martha,  the  housekeeper,  returned,  and 
we  then  learned,  for  the  first  time,  with  what  consum- 
mate skill  Pollexfen  had  laid  all  his  plans.  For  even 
the  housekeeper  had  been  sent  out  of  the  way,  and  on 
&  fictitious  pretense  that  she  was  needed  at  the  bedside 
of  a  friend,  whose  illness  was  feigned  for  the  occasion. 
JSfor  was  the  day  over  before  we  learned  with  certainty, 
but  no  longer  with  surprise,  that  Cloudsdale  was  on  his 
way  to  Panama,  with  a  bribe  in  his  pocket. 

As  soon  as  it  was  safe  to  remove  Lucile,  she  was  borne 
on  a  litter  to  the  hospital  of  Dr.  Peter  Smith,  where  she 
received  every  attention  that  ber  friends  could  bestow. 

Knowing  full  well,  from  what  Lucile  had  told  me, 
that  Courtland  would  be  down  in  the  Sacramento  boat, 
I  awaited  his  arrival  with  the  greatest  impatience.  I 
■could  only  surmise  what  would  be  his  course.  But 
judging  from  my  own  feelings,  I  could  not  doubt  that 
it  would  be  both  desperate  and  decisive. 

Finally,  the  steamer  rounded  to,  and  the  next  moment 
ihe  pale,  emaciated  form  of  the  youth  sank,  sobbing, 
into  my  arms.     Other  tears  mingled  with  his  own. 

The  story  was  soon  told.  Eagerly,  most  eagerly, 
Courtland  read  the  little  note  accompanying  the  bank- 
book.    It  was  very  simple,  and  ran  thus: 

My  own  life's  Life  :  Forgive  the  first,  and  only  act,  that 
you  will  ever  disapprove  of  in  the  conduct  of  your  mutilated 
but  loving  Lucile.  Ah  !  can  I  still  hoiDe  for  your  love,  in 
the  future,  as  in  the  past?  Give  me  but  that  assurance,  and 
-death  itself  would  be  welcome. 

L.  M. 


90  Caxton  s  Book. 

We  parted  very  late  ;  he  going  to  a  hotel,  I  to  the 
bedside  of  the  wounded  girl.  Onr  destinies  would  have 
been  reversed,  but  the  surgeon's  order  was  imperative^ 
that  she  should  see  no  one  whose  presence  might  con- 
duce still  further  to  bring  on  inflammation  of  the  brain. 

The  next  day,  Courtland  was  confined  to  his  bed  until 
late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  dressed,  and  left  the 
hotel.  I  saw  him  no  more  until  the  subsequent  day^ 
Why,  it  now  becomes  important  to  relate. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  21st,  the 
day  after  his  arrival,  Courtland  staggered  into  the  gal- 
lery, or  rather  the  den  of  John  Pollexfeu.  He  had  ne 
other  arms  than  a  short  double-edged  dagger,  and  this 
he  concealed  in  his  sleeve. 

They  had  met  before;  as  he  sometimes  went  there, 
anterior  to  the  death  of  M.  Marmont,  to  obtain  the 
photographs  upon  which  Lucile  was  experimenting,  pre- 
vious to  her  engagement  by  the  artist. 

Pollexfen  manifested  no  surprise  at  his  visit;  indeed^ 
his  manner  indicated  that  it  had  been  anticipated. 

"You  have  come  into  my  house,  young  man,"  slowly 
enunciated  the  photographer,    "to  take  m}'  life." 

"I  do  not  deny  it,"  replied  Courtland. 

As  he  said  this,  he  took  a  step  forward.  Pollexfert 
threw  open  his  vest,  raised  himself  to  his  loftiest  height, 
and  solemnly  said:  "Fire!  or  strike!  as  the  case  may 
be;  I  shall  offer  no  resistance.  I  only  beg  of  you,  as 
a  gentleman,  to  hear  me  through  before  you  play  the 
part  of  assassin." 

Their  eyes  met.  The  struck  lamb  gazing  at  the  eagle  I 
Vengeance  encountering  Faith  !  TLe  pause  was  but  mo- 
mentary. "I  will  hear  you,"  said  Courtland,  sinking: 
into  a  chair,  already  exhausted  by  his  passion. 

Pollexfen  did  not  move.     Confronting  the  lover,  he 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  fohn  Pollexfen.     9 1 

told  his  story  truthfully  to  the  end.  He  plead  for  his 
life;  for  he  felt  the  proud  consciousness  of  having  per- 
formed an  act  of  duty  that  bordered  upon  the  heroic. 

Still,  there  was  no  relenting  in  the  eye  of  Courtland. 
It  had  that  expression  in  it  that  betokens  blood.  Caesar 
saw  it  as  Brutus  lifted  his  dagger.  Henry  of  Navarre 
recognized  it  as  the  blade  of  Eavillac  sank  into  his 
heart.  Joaquin  beheld  it  gleaming  in  the  vengeful 
orbs  of  Harr}^  Love!  Pollexfen,  too,  understood  the 
language  that  it  spoke. 

Dropping  his  hands,  and  taking  one  stride  toward  the 
young  man,  he  sorrowfully  said:  "I  have  but  one  word 
more  to  utter.  Your  affianced  bride  has  joyfully  sacri- 
ficed one  of  her  lustrous  eyes  to  science.  In  doing  so, 
she  expressed  but  one  regret,  that  you,  whom  she  loved 
better  than  vision,  or  even  life,  might,  as  the  years  roll 
away,  forget  to  love  her  in  her  mutilation  as  you  did  in 
her  beauty.  Perfect  yourself,  she  feared  mating  with 
imperfection  might  possibly  estrange  your  heart.  Your 
superiority  in  personal  appearance  might  constantly 
disturb  the  perfect  equilibrium  of  love." 

He  ceased.  The  covert  meaning  was  seized  with 
lightning  rapidity  by  Courtland.  Springing  to  his  feet^ 
he  exclaimed  joyfully:  "The  sacrifice  must  be  mutual. 
God  never  created  a  soul  that  could  outdo  Charles 
Courtland's  in  generosity." 

Flinging  his  useless  dagger  upon  the  floor,  he  threw 
himself  into  the  already  extended  arms  of  the  photog- 
rapher, and  begged  him  "to  be  quick  wdth  the  opera- 
tion." The  artist  required  no  second  invitation,  and 
ere  the  last  words  died  upon  his  lips,  the  sightless  ball 
of  his  left  eye  swung  from  its  socket. 

There  was  no  cry  of  pain;  no  distortion  of  the  young 
man's  features  with  agony;  no  moan,   or  sob,  or  sigh. 


•92  Caxtons  Book. 

As  lie  closed  firmly  his  right  eye,  and  compressed  his 
pallid  lips,  a  joyous  smile  lit  up  his  whole  countenance 
that  told  the  spectator  how  superior  even  human  love 
is  to  the  body's  anguish;  how  Avillingly  the  severest 
sacrifice  falls  at  the  beck  of  honor! 

I  shall  attempt  no  description  of  the  manner  in  which 
I  received  the  astounding  news  from  the  lips  of  the 
imperturbable  Pollexfen;  nor  prolong  this  narrative  by 
detailing  the  meeting  of  the  lovers,  their  gradual  re- 
covery, their  marriage,  and  their  departure  for  the  vales 
of  Dauphiuy.  It  is  but  just  to  add,  however,  that  Pol- 
lexfen added  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  to  the 
bank  account  of  Mademoiselle  Marmont,  on  the  day  of 
her  nuptials,  as  a  bridal  present,  given,  no  doubt,  par- 
tially as  a  compensation  to  the  heroic  husband  for  his 
voluntary  mutilation. 

Long  months  elapsed  after  the  departure  of  Lucile 
and  her  lover  before  the  world  heard  anything  more  of 
the  photographer. 

One  day,  however,  in  the  early  spring  of  the  next 
season,  itM'as  observed  that  Pollexfen  had  opened  a  new 
and  most  magnificent  gallery  upon  Montgomery  Street, 
and  had  painted  prominently  upon  his  sign,  these  words : 


John  Pollexfen,  Photographer. 

Discoverer  of  the  Carboii  Process, 
By  which  Colored  Pictures  are  Painted  by  the  Sun. 


The  news  of  this  invention  spread,  in  a  short  time, 
over  the  whole  civilized  world;  and  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon the  Third,  with  the  liberality  characteristic  of  great 
princes,  on  hearing  from  the  lips  of  Lucile  a  full  ac- 
■count  of  this  wonderful  discovery,  revived,  in  favor  of 


Phases  in  the  Life  of  John  Pollexfe7t.     93 

John  Pollexfen,  tlie  pension  which  had  been  bestowed 
upon  Niepce,  and  which  had  lapsed  by  his  death,  in 
1839;  and  with  a  magnanimity  that  would  have  rendered 
still  more  illustrious  his  celebrated  uncle,  revoked  the 
decree  of  forfeiture  against  the  estates  of  M.  Marmont^ 
and  bestowed  them,  with  a  corresponding  title  of  no- 
bility, upon  Lucile  and  her  issue. 

This  ends  my  story.  I  trust  the  patient  reader  will 
excuse  its  length,  for  it  was  all  necessary,  in  order  to- 
explain  how  John  Pollexfen  made  his  fortune. 


YI. 

THE  LOVE  KNOT. 

TTPON  my  bosom  lies 

A  knot  of  blue  and  gi'ay; 
You  ask  me  why  tears  fill  my  eyes 
As  low  to  you  I  say : 

"  I  had  two  brothers  once, 

Warmhearted,  bold  and  gay; 
They  left  my  side — one  wore  the  blue. 

The  other  wore  the  gray. 

One  rode  with  "  Stonewall  "  and  his  men, 

And  joined  his  fate  with  Lee; 
The  other  followed  Sherman's  march. 

Triumphant  to  the  sea. 

Both  fought  for  what  they  deemed  the  right. 

And  died  with  sword  in  hand; 
One  sleeps  amid  Virginia's  hills, 

And  one  in  Georgia's  land. 

Why  should  one's  dust  be  consecrate, 
The  other's  spurned  with  scorn — 

Both  victims  of  a  common  fate. 
Twins  cradled,  bred  and  born  ? 

Oh!  tell  me  not — a  patriot  one, 

A  traitor  vile  the  other; 
John  was  my  mother's  favorite  son, 

But  Eddie  was  my  brother. 

The  same  sun  shines  above  their  graves, 
My  love  unchanged  must  stay — 

And  so  upon  my  bosom  lies 
Love's  knot  of  blue  and  gray." 


VII. 

THE  AZTEC  PRINCESS. 

"Speaking  marble." — Btbon. 
CHAPTER  I. 

IN  common  with  maii}^  of  our  countrymen,  my  atten- 
tion has  been  powerfully  drawn  to  the  subject  of 
American  antiquities,  ever  since  the  publication  of  the 
wonderful  discoveries  made  by  Stephens  and  Norman 
among  the  ruins  of  Uxmal  and  Palenque. 

Yucatan  and  Chiapas  have  always  spoken  to  my  im- 
agination more  forcibly  than  Egypt  or  Babylon;  and  in 
my  early  dreams  of  ambition  I  aspired  to  emulate  the 
fame  of  Champollion  le  Jeune,  and  transmit  my  name 
to  posterity  on  the  same  page  with  that  of  the  de- 
cipherer of  the  hieroglyphics  on  the  pyramids  of 
Ghizeh. 

The  fame  of  warriors  and  statesmen  is  transient  and 
mean,  when  compared  to  that  of  those  literary  colossii 
whose  herculean  labors  have  turned  back  upon  itself  the 
tide  of  oblivion,  snatched  the  scythe  from  the  hands  of 
Death,  and,  reversing  the  duties  of  the  fabled  Charon, 
^re  now  busily  engaged  in  ferrying  back  again  across 
the  Styx  the  shades  of  the  illustrious  dead,  and  landing 
them  securely  upon  the  shores  of  true  immortality,  the 
ever-living  Present!  Even  the  laurels  of  the  poet  and 
orator,  the  historian  and  philosopher,  wither,  and  ■ 
"  Pale  their  ineffectual  fires  " 

in  the  presence  of  that  superiority — truly  godlike  in  its 
attributes — which,  with  one  Avave  of  its  matchless  wand, 


g6  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

conjures  up  whole  realms,  reconstructs  majestic  em- 
pires, peoples  desolate  wastes — voiceless  but  yesterday, 
save  with  the  shrill  cry  of  the  bittern — and,  contem- 
plating the  midnight  darkness  shrouding  Thebes  and 
Nineveh,  cries  aloud,  "Let  there  be  light !"  and  suddenly 
Thotmes  starts  from  his  tomb,  the  dumb  pyramids- 
become  vocal,  Nimroud  wakes  from  his  sleep  of  four 
thousand  years,  and,  springing  upon  his  battle-horse, 
once  more  leads  forth  his  armies  to  conquest  and  glory.. 
The  unfamiliar  air  learns  to  repeat  accents,  forgotten 
ere  the  foundations  of  Troy  were  laid,  and  resounds 
once  more  Avith  the  echoes  of  a  tongue  in  which  old 
Menes  wooed  his  bride,  long  before  Noah  was  com- 
manded to  build  the  Ark,  or  the  first  rainbow  smiled 
upon  the  cloud. 

All  honor,  then,  to  the  shades  of  Young  and  Champol- 
lion,  Lepsius  and  De  Lacy,  Figeac  and  Layard.  Alex- 
ander and  Napoleon  conquered  kingdoms,  but  they  Avere 
ruled  by  the  living.  On  the  contrary,  the  heroes  I  have 
mentioned  vanquished  mighty  realms,  governed  alone 

b}^  the 

"Monarch  of  the  Scythe  and  Glass," 

that  unsubstantial  king,  who  erects  his  thrones  on 
broken  columns  and  fallen  domes,  Avaves  his  sceptre 
over  dispeopled  wastes,  and  builds  his  capitals  amid 
the  rocks  of  Petraea  and  the  catacombs  of  Egypt. 

Such  being  the  object  of  my  ambition,  it  will  not 
appear  surprising  that  I  embraced  every  opportunity  to 
enlarge  my  knowledge  of  my  favorite  subject — American 
Antiquities  —  and  eagerly  perused  every  new  volume 
purporting  to  throw  any  light  upon  it.  I  was  per- 
fectly familiar  with  the  works  of  Lord  Kingsborough 
and  Dr.  Bobertson  before  I  was  fifteen  years  of  age,, 


The  Aztec  Princess.  97 

and  Lad  studied  the  explorations  of  Bernal  Diaz,  Wal- 
deck,  and  Dupaix,  before  I  Avas  twenty.  My  delight, 
therefore,  was  boundless  when  a  copy  of  Stephens's 
travels  in  Yucatan  and  Chiapas  fell  into  my  hands,  and 
I  devoured  his  subsequent  publications  on  the  same 
subject  with  all  the  avidity  of  an  enthusiast.  Nor  did 
my  labors  stop  here.  Very  early  I  saw  the  importance 
of  an  acquaintance  with  aboriginal  tongues,  and  imme- 
diately set  about  mastering  the  researches  of  Humboldt 
and  Schoolcraft.  This  was  easily  done ;  for  I  discov- 
ered, much  to  my  chagrin  and  disappointment,  that  but 
little  is  known  of  the  languages  of  the  Indian  tribes, 
and  that  little  is  soon  acquired.  Dissatisfied  with  such 
information  as  could  be  gleaned  from  books  only,  I  ap- 
plied for  and  obtained  an  agency  for  dispensing  Indian 
rations  among  the  Cherokees  and  Ouchitaws,  and  set 
out  for  Fort  Towson  in- the  spring  of  1848. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  I  left  the  fort,  and  took  up  my 
residence  at  the  wigwam  of  Sac-a-ra-sa,  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal chiefs  of  the  Cherokees.  My  intention  to  make 
myself  familiar  with  the  Indian  tongues  was  noised 
abroad,  and  every  facility  was  afforded  me  by  my  hos- 
pitable friends.  I  took  long  voyages  into  the  interior  of 
the  continent,  encountered  delegations  from  most  of  the 
western  tribes,  and  familiarized  myself  with  almost  every 
dialect  spoken  by  the  Indians  dwelling  west  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  I  devoted  four  years  to  this  labor,  and  at 
the  end  of  that  period,  with  my  mind  enriched  by  a 
species  of  knowledge  unattainable  by  a  mere  acquaint- 
ance with  books,  I  determined  to  visit  Central  America 
in  person,  and  inspect  the  monuments  of  Uxmal  and 
Palenque  with  my  own  eyes. 

Full  of  this  intention,  I  took  passage  on  the  steam- 
ship  "Prometheus,"  in  December,  1852,  bound  from 
7 


98  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

New  York  to  Greytown,  situated  in  the  State  of  Nicar- 
agua; a  point  from  which  I  could  easily  reach  Chiapas 
or  Yucatan. 

And  at  this  point  of  my  narrative,  it  becomes  neces- 
sary to  digress  for  a  moment,  and  relate  an  incident 
which  occurred  on  the  voyage,  and  which,  in  its  conse- 
quences, changed  my  whole  mode  of  investigation,  and 
introduced  a  new  element  of  knowledge  to  my  attention. 

It  so  happened  that  Judge  E ,  formerly  on  the 

Bench  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
was  a  fellow-passenger.  He  had  been  employed  by  the 
Nicaragua  Transit  Company  to  visit  Leon,  the  capital 
of  Nicaragua,  and  perfect  some  treaty  stipulations  with 
regard  to  the  project  of  an  interoceanic  canal.  Fellow- 
passengers,  we  of  course  became  acquainted  almost 
immediately,  and  at  an  early  day  I  made  respectful 
inquiries  concerning  that  science  to  which  he  had  of 
late  years  consecrated  his  life — I  mean  the  "Theory  of 
Spiritual  Communion  between  the  Two  Worlds  of  Mat- 
ter and  Spirit."  The  judge  was  as  communicative  as  I 
could  desire,  and  with  the  aid  of  two  large  manuscript 
volumes  (which  were  subsequently  given  to  the  public), 
he  introduced  me  at  once  into  the  profoundest  arcana 
of  the  science.  I  read  his  books  through  with  the  deep- 
est interest,  and  though  not  by  any  means  convinced, 
I  was  startled  and  bewildered.  The  most  powerful 
instincts  of  my  nature  were  aroused,  and  I  frankly 
acknowledged  to  my  instructor,  that  an  irresistible  curi- 
osity had  seized  me  to  witness  some  of  those  strange 
phenomena  with  which  his  volumes  superabounded. 
Finally,  I  extorted  a  promise  from  him,  that  on  our 
arrival  at  Greytown,  if  a  favorable  0]3portunity  pre- 
sented, he  would  endeavor  to  form  the  mystical  circle, 
and  afford  me  the  privilege  I  so  much  coveted — to  see 


The  Aztec  Princess.  99 

for  myself.  The  anticipated  experiments  formed  the 
staple  of  our  conversation  for  the  six  weary  days  and 
nights  that  our  trip  occupied.  Finally,  on  the  morning 
of  the  seventh  day,  the  low  and  wooded  coast  of  Nicar- 
agua gently  rose  in  the  western  horizon,  and  before 
twelve  o'clock  we  were  safely  riding  at  anchor  within 
the  mouth  of  the  San  Juan  River.  But  here  a  new  vexa- 
tion was  in  store  for  us.  The  river  boats  commenced 
firing  up,  and  before  dark  we  were  transferred  from  our 
ocean  steamer  to  the  lighter  crafts,  and  were  soon  after- 
wards leisurely  puffing  our  way  up  the  river. 

The  next  day  we  arrived  at  the  upper  rapids,  where 
the  little  village  of  Castillo  is  situated,  and  where  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  being  detained  five  or  six  days, 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  California  passengers.  This 
delay  was  exactly  what  I  most  desired,  as  it  presented 
fhe  opportunity  long  waited  for  with  the  utmost  impa- 
tience. But  the  weather  soon  became  most  unfavorable, 
and  the  rain  commenced  falling  in  torrents.  The  Judge 
declared  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  anything  so  long 
as  it  continued  to  rain.  But  on  the  third  evening  he 
consented  to  make  the  experiment,  provided  the  ma- 
terials of  a  circle  could  be  found.  We  were  not  long 
in  suspense,  for  two  young  ladies  from  Indiana,  a  young 
doctor  from  the  old  North  State  (now  a  practicing 
physician  in  Stockton,  California),  and  several  others, 
whose  names  I  have  long  since  forgotten,  volunteered 
to  take  part  in  the  mysterious  proceedings. 

But  the  next  difficulty  was  to  find  a  place  to  meet  in. 
The  doctor  and  I  started  ofi;  on  a  tour  through  the  vil- 
lage to  prepare  a  suitable  spot.  The  rain  was  still 
falling,  and  the  night  as  dark  as  Erebus.  Hoisting  our 
umbrellas,  we  defied  night  and  storm.  Tinally,  we  suc- 
ceeded in  hiring  a  room  in  the  second  story  of  a  build- 


lOO  Caxton  s  Book. 

ing  in  process  of  erection,  procured  one  or  two  lanterns^ 
and  illuminated  it  to  the  best  of  our  ability.  Soon  ■ 
afterwards  we  congregated  there,  but  as  the  doors  and 
windows  were  not  put  in,  and  there  were  no  chairs  or 
tables,  we  were  once  more  on  the  point  of  giving  up  in 
despair.  Luckily  there  were  fifteen  or  twenty  baskets 
of  claret  wine  unopened  in  the  room,  and  these  we 
arranged  for  seats,  substituting  an  unhinged  door,  bal- 
anced on  a  pile  of  boxes,  for  the  leaf  of  a  table.  Our 
rude  contrivance  worked  admirably,  and  before  an  hour 
had  rolled  by  we  had  received  a  mass  of  communica- 
tions from  all  kinds  of  people  in  the  spirit  world,  and 
fully  satisfied  ourselves  that  the  Judge  was  either  a 
wizard  or  what  he  professed  to  be — a  medium  of  com- 
munication with  departed  spirits. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  all  the  messages  we  re- 
ceived; one  only  do  I  deem  it  important  to  notice.  A 
spirit,  purporting  to  be  that  of  Horatio  Nelson,  rapped 
out  his  name,  and  stated  that  he  had  led  the  assault  on 
the  Spaniards  in  the  attack  of  the  old  Fort  of  Castillo 
frowning  above  us,  and  there  first  distinguished  himself 
in  life.  He  declared  that  these  mouldering  ruins  were 
one  of  his  favorite  haunts,  and  that  he  prided  himself 
more  on  the  assault  and  capture  of  Castillo  Viejo  than 
on  the  victory  of  the  Nile  or  triumph  of  Trafalgar. 

The  circle  soon  afterwards  dispersed,  and  most  of 
those  who  had  participated  in  it  were,  in  a  few  minutes, 
slumbering  in  their  cots.  As  for  myself,  I  was  as- 
tounded with  all  that  I  had  witnessed,  but  at  the  same 
time  delighted  beyond  measure  at  the  new  field  open- 
ing before  me.  I  tossed  from  side  to  side,  unable  to 
close  my  eyes  or  to  calm  down  the  excitement,  until, 
finding  that  sleep  was  impossible,  I  hastily  rose,  threw 
on  my  coat,  and  went  to  the  door,  which  was  slightly 


The  Aztec  Princess.  loi 

ajar.  Ou  looking  out,  I  observed  a  person  passing 
toward  the  foot  of  the  hill  upon  which  stood  the  Fort 
of  Castillo  Viejo.  The  shower  had  passed  off,  and  the 
full  moon  was  riding  majestically  in  mid  heavens.  I 
thought  I  recognized  the  figure,  and  I  ventured  to  ac- 
cost him.  It  was  the  Judge.  He  also  had  been  unable 
to  sleep,  and  declared  that  a  sudden  impulse  drove  him 
forth  into  the  open  air. 

Gradually  he  had  approached  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
w^hich  shot  up,  like  a  sugar-loaf,  two  or  three  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  stream,  and  had  just  made 
up  his  mind  to  ascend  it  when  I  spoke  to  him.  I 
readily  consented  to  accompany  him,  and  we  imme- 
diately commenced  climbing  upwards. 

The  ascent  was  toilsome,  as  well  as  dangerous,  and 
more  than  once  we  were  on  the  point  of  descending 
without  reaching  the  summit.  Still,  however,  we 
clambered  on,  and  at  half-past  one  o'clock  a.m.,  w^e 
succeeded  in  our  effort,  and  stood  upon  the  old  stone 
rampart  that  had  for  more  than  half  a  century  been 
slowly  yielding  to  the  remorseless  tooth  of  Time. 
Abandoned  for  maily  years,  the  ruins  presented  the 
very  picture  of  desolation.  Kank  vines  clung  upon 
every  stone,  and  half  filled  up  with  their  green  tendrils 
the  yawning  crevices  everywhere  gaping  at  us,  and 
whispering  of  the  flight  of  years. 

We  sat  down  on  a  broken  fragment  that  once  served 
as  the  floor  of  a  port-hole,  and  many  minutes  elapsed 
before  either  of  us  spoke  a  word.  We  were  busy  with 
the  past.  Our  thoughts  recalled  the  terrible  scenes 
which  this  same  old  fort  witnessed  on  that  glorious  day 
when  the  youthful  Nelson  planted  with  his  own  hand 
the  flag  of  St.  George  upon  the  very  ramparts  where  we 
were  sitting. 


I02  Caxton  s  Book. 

How  long  we  had  been  musing  I  know  not;  but  sud- 
denly we  heard  a  low,  long-drawn  sigh  at  our  very  ears. 
Each  sprang  to  his  feet,  looked  wildly  around,  but 
seeing  nothing,  gazed  at  the  other  in  blank  astonish- 
ment. We  resumed  our  seats,  but  had  hardly  done  so, 
when  a  deep  and  most  anguishing  groan  was  heard, 
that  pierced  our  very  hearts.  This  time  we  retained 
our  position.  I  had  unclosed  my  lips,  preparatory  to 
speaking  to  my  companion,  when  I  felt  myself  dis- 
tinctly touched  upon  the  shoulder.  My  voice  died 
away  inarticulately,  and  I  shuddered  with  ill-concealed 
terror.  But  my  companion  was  perfectly  calm,  and 
moved  not  a  nerve  or  a  muscle.  Able  at  length  to  speak, 
I  said,    "Judge,  let  us  leave  this  haunted  sepulchre," 

"Not  for  the  world,"  he  coolly  replied.  "You  have 
been  anxious  for  spiritual  j^henomena;  now  you  can  wit- 
ness them  unobserved  and  without  interruption." 

As  he  said  this,  my  right  arm  was  seized  with  great 
force,  and  I  was  compelled  to  resign  myself  to  the  con- 
trol of  the  presence  that  possessed  me.  My  right  hand 
was  then  placed  on  the  Judge's  left  breast,  and  his  left 
hand  laid  gently  on  my  right  shoulder.  At  the  same 
time  he  took  a  pencil  and  paper  from  his  pocket,  and 
wrote  very  rapidly  the  following  communication,  ad- 
dressed to  me: 

The  Grave  hath  its  secrets,  but  the  Past  has  none. 
Time  may  crumble  pyramids  in  the  dust,  but  the  genius  of 
man  can  despoil  him  of  his  booty,  and  rescue  the  story  of 
buried  empires  from  oblivion.  Even  now  the  tombs  of 
Egypt  are  unrolling  their  recorded  ej)itaiDhs.  Even  now 
the  sculptured  mounds  of  Nineveh  are  surrendering  the 
history  of  Nebuchadnezzar's  line.  Before  another  genera- 
tion shall  pass  away,  the  columns  of  Palenque  shall  find  a 
tongue,  and  the  bas-reliefs  of  Uxmal  wake  the  dead  from 
their  sleep  of  two  thousand  years.  Young  man!  oj^en  your 
eyes ;  we  shall  meet  again  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Casct 
Grande  ! 


The  Aztec  Princess.  103 

At  this  moment  the  Judge's  hand  fell  palsied  at  his 
side,  and  the  paper  was  thrvist  violently  into  my  left 
hand.  I  held  it  up  so  as  to  permit  the  rays  of  the 
moon  to  fall  full  upon  it,  and  read  it  carefully  from 
beginning  to  end.  But  no  sooner  had  I  finished  read- 
ing it  than  a  shock  something  like  electricity  struck  us 
simviltaneously,  and  seemed  to  rock  the  old  fort  to  its 
very  foundation.  Everything  near  us  was  apparently 
affected  by  it,  and  several  large  bowlders  started  from 
their  ticklish  beds  and  rolled  away  down  the  mountain. 
Our  surprise  at  this  was  hardly  over,  ere  one  still  greater 
took  possession  of  us.  On  raising  our  eyes  to  the  moss- 
grown  parapet,  we  beheld  a  figure  sitting  upon  it  that 
bore  a  very  striking  resemblance  to  the  pictures  in  the 
Spanish  Museum  at  Madrid  of  the  early  Aztec  princes. 
It  was  a  female,  and  she  bore  upon  her  head  a  most 
gorgeous  headdress  of  feathers,  called  a  Panaclie.  Her 
face  was  calm,  clear,  and  exceedingly  beautiful.  The 
nose  was  prominent — more  so  than  the  Mexican  or  Tez- 
cucan — and  the  complexion  much  lighter.  Indeed,  by 
the  gleam  of  the  moonlight,  it  appeared  as  white  as  that 
of  a  Caucasian  princess,  and  wore  an  expression  full  of 
benignity  and  love. 

Our  eyes  were  riveted  upon  this  beautiful  apparition, 
and  our  lips  silent.  She  seemed  desirous  of  speaking, 
and  once  or  twice  I  beheld  her  lips  faintly  moving. 
Finally,  raising  her  white,  uncovered  arm,  she  pointed 
to  the  north,  and  softly  murmured,  ''  Paleiiqne!" 

Before  we  could  resolve  in  our  minds  what  to  say  in 
reply,  the  fairy  princess  folded  her  arms  across  her 
breast,  and  disappeared  as  suddenly  and  mysteriously 
as  she  had  been  evoked  from  night.  We  spoke  not  a 
word  to  each  other,  but  gazed  long  and  thoughtfully  at 
the  spot  where  the  bright  vision  had  gladdened  and  be- 


I04  Caxton  s  Book. 

wiklered  our  sight.  Bj  a  common  impulse,  we  turned 
to  leave,  and  descended  the  mountain  in  silence  as  deep 
as  that  whicli  brooded  over  chaos  ere  God  spoke  crea- 
tion into  being.  We  soon  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
and  parted,  with  no  word  upon  our  lips,  though  with  the 
wealth  of  untold  worlds  gathered  up  in  our  hearts. 

Never,  since  that  bright  and  glorious  tropical  night, 
have  I  mentioned  the  mysterious  scene  we  witnessed  on 
the  ramparts  of  Fort  Castillo;  and  I  have  every  reason  to 
believe  that  my  companion  has  been  as  discreet. 

This,  perhaps,  will  be  the  only  record  that  shall  trans- 
mit it  to  the  future;  but  well  I  know  that  its  fame  Avill 
render  me  immortal. 

Through  me  and  me  alone,  the  sculptured  marbles  of 
Central  America  have  found  a  tongue.  By  my  efforts, 
Palenque  speaks  of  her  buried  glories,  and  Uxmal 
wakes  from  oblivion's  repose.  Even  the  old  pyramid 
of  Cholula  yields  up  its  bloody  secrets,  and  Gasa  Grande 
reveals  the  dread  history  of  its  royalties. 

The  means  by  which  a  key  to  the  monumental  hiero- 
glyphics of  Central  America  was  furnished  me,  as  well 
as  a  full  account  of  the  discoveries  made  at  Palenque, 
will  be  narrated  in  the  subsequent  chapters  of  this 
history. 


CHAPTEK    II. 

"Amid  all  the  wreck  of  empires,  nothing  ever  spoke  so  forcibly  the 
world's  mutations,  as  this  immense  forest,  shrouding  what  was  once  a 
great  city." — Stephens. 

At  daylight  on  the  next  morning  after  the  singular 
adventure  recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter,  the  Cali- 
fornia passengers  bound  eastward  arrived,  and  those  of 
us  bound  to  the  westward  were  transshipped  to  the  same 
steamer  which  they  had  just  abandoned.     In  less  than 


The  Aztec  Pri7icess.  105 

•an  hour  we  Avere  all  aboard,  and  the  little  river-craft  was 
busily  puffing  her  way  toward  the  fairy  shores  of  Lake 
Nicaragua. 

For  me,  however,  the  evergreen  scenery  of  the  tropics 
possessed  no  charms,  and  its  balmy  air  no  enchant- 
ments. Sometimes,  as  the  steamer  approached  the  ivy- 
clad  banks,  laden  as  they  were  with  flowers  of  every 
liue,  and  alive  with  ten  thousand  songsters  of  the  richest 
and  most  variegated  plumage,  my  attention  would  be 
momentarily  aroused,  and  I  enjoyed  the  sweet  fragrance 
of  the  flowers,  and  the  gay  singing  of  the  birds.  But 
my  memory  was  busy  with  the  past,  and  my  imagina- 
tion with  the  future.  With  the  Judge,  even,  I  could 
not  converse  for  any  length  of  time,  without  falling  into 
a  reverie  by  no  means  flattering  to  his  powers  of  con- 
versation. About  noon,  however,  I  was  fully  aroused 
to  the  beauty  and  sublimit}^  of  the  surrounding  scenery. 
We  had  just  passed  Fort  San  Carlos,  at  the  junction  of 
the  San  Juan  River  with  the  lake,  and  before  us  was 
.spread  out  like  an  ocean  that  magnificent  sheet  of  water. 
It  was  dotted  all  over  with  green  islands,  and  reminded 
me  of  the  picture  drawn  by  Addison  of  the  Vision  of 
JMirza. 

Here,  said  I  to  myself,  is  the  home  of  the  blest. 
These  emerald  islets,  fed  by  vernal  skies,  never  grow 
sere  and  yellow  in  the  autumn;  never  bleak  and  deso- 
late in  the  Aviuter.  Perpetual  summer  smiles  above 
them,  and  wavelets  dimpled  by  gentle  breezes  forever 
lave  their  shores.  Rude  storms  never  howl  across  these 
sleeping  billows,  and  the  azure  heavens  whisper  eternal 
peace  to  the  lacerated  heart. 

Hardly  had  these  words  escaped  my  lips,  wdien  a  loud 
report,  like  a  whole  park  of  artillery,  suddenly  shook 
the  air.     It  seemed  to  proceed  from  the  westward,  and 


io6  Caxions  Book. 

on  turning  our  ej^es  in  that  direction,  we  beheld  the 
true  cause  of  the  phenomenon.  Ometepe  was  in  active 
eruption.  It  had  given  no  admonitory  notice  of  the 
storm  which  had  been  gathering  in  its  bosom,  but  like 
the  wrath  of  those  dangerous  men  we  sometimes  en- 
counter in  life,  it  had  hidden  its  vengeance  beneath 
flowery  smiles,  and  covered  over  its  terrors  with  deceit- 
ful calm. 

In  a  moment  the  whole  face  of  nature  was  changed. 
The  skies  became  dark  and  lurid,  the  atmosphere  heavy 
and  sultry,  and  the  joyous  waters  across  \^■hich  Ave  had 
been  careering  only  a  moment  before  with  animation 
and  laughter,  rose  in  tumultuous  swells,  like  the  cross- 
seas  in  the  Mexican  Gulf  after  a  tornado.  Terror  seized 
all  on  board  the  steamer,  and  the  passengers  were  clam- 
orous to  return  to  Fort  San  Carlos.  But  the  captain 
was  inexorable,  and  seizing  the  wheel  himself,  he  defied 
the  war  of  the  elements,  and  steered  the  vessel  on  her 
ordinary  course.  This  lay  directly  to  the  south  of 
Ometepe,  and  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  foot  of 
the  volcano. 

As  we  approached  the  region  of  the  eruption,  th& 
waters  of  the  lake  became  more  and  more  troubled,  and 
the  air  still  more  difficult  to  respire.  Pumice-stone, 
seemingly  as  light  as  cork,  covered  the  surface  of  the 
lake,  and  soon  a  terrific  shower  of  hot  ashes  darkened 
the  very  sun.  Our  danger  at  this  moment  was  immi- 
nent in  the  extreme,  for,  laying  aside  all  consideration 
of  peril  from  the  volcano  itself,  it  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  the  ashes  could  be  swept  from  the  deck  fast 
enough  to  prevent  the  woodwork  from  ignition.  But 
our  chief  danger  was  still  in  store  for  us;  for  just  as  we 
had  arrived  directly  under  the  impending  summit,  as  it 
were,  a  fearful  explosion  took  place,  and  threatened  to 


The  Aztec  Prhicess.  107 

ingulf  us  all  in  ruin.  The  crater  of  the  volcano,  which 
previously  had  only  belched  forth  ashes  and  lava,  now 
sent  up  high  into  the  heavens  a  sheet  of  lurid  fire.  It 
did  not  resemble  gases  in  combustion,  which  we  denom- 
inate flame,  flickering  for  a  moment  in  transitory  splen- 
dor, and  then  dying  out  forever.  On  the  contrary,  it; 
looked  more  like  frozen  fire,  if  the  expression  may  be 
allowed.  It  presented  an  appearance  of  solidity  that 
seemed  to  defy  abrasion  or  demolition,  and  rose  into  the 
blue  sky  like  a  marble  column  of  lightning.  It  was  far 
brighter  than  ordinary  flame,  and  cast  a  gloomy  and 
peculiar  shadow  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  At  the 
same  instant  the  earth  itself  shook  like  a  summer  reed 
when  swept  by  a  storm,  and  the  water  struck  the  sides 
of  the  vessel  like  some  rocky  substance.  Every  atom 
of  timber  in  her  trembled  and  quivered  for  a  moment, 
then  grew  into  senseless  wood  once  more.  At  this 
instant,  the  terrific  cry  of  "  Fire! "  burst  from  a  hundred 
tongues,  and  I  had  but  to  cast  my  eyes  toward  the 
stern  of  the  ship  to  realize  the  new  peril  at  hand.  The 
attention  of  the  passengers  was  now  equally  divided 
between  the  burning  ship  and  the  belching  volcano. 
The  alternative  of  a  death  by  flame,  or  by  burial  in  the 
lake  was  presented  to  each  of  us. 

In  a  few  moments  more  the  captain,  crew,  and 
passengers,  including  seventeen  ladies,  were  engaged 
hand  to  hand  with  the  enemy  nearest  to  us.  Buckets, 
pumps,  and  even  hats,  were  used  to  draw  up  water 
from  the  lake  and  pass  to  those  hardy  spirits  that 
dared  to  press  closest  to  the  flames.  But  I  perceived 
at  once  that  all  would  prove  unavailing.  The  fire 
gained  upon  the  combatants  every  moment,  and  a  gen- 
eral retreat  took  place  toward  the  stem  of  the  steamer. 
Fully  satisfied  what  would  be  the  fate  of  those  who 


io8  Caxtoit  s  Book. 

Temained  upon  the  sliip,  I  commenced  preparing  to 
throw  myself  into  the  water,  and  for  that  purpose  was 
about  tearing  one  of  the  cabin  doors  from  its  hinges, 
when  the  Judge  came  up,  and  accosted  me. 

He  was  perfectly  calm;  nor  could  I,  after  the  closest 
scrutiny  of  his  features,  detect  either  excitement,  im- 
patience, or  alarm.     In  astonishment  I  exclaimed: 

"Sir,  death  is  at  the  doors!  Prepare  to  escape  from 
the  burning  ship." 

"There  is  no  danger,"  he  replied  calmly;  "and  even 
if  there  were,  what  is  this  thing  that  we  call  death,  that 
we  should  fear  it?  Compose  yourself,  young  man; 
there  is  as  yet  no  danger.  I  have  been  forewarned  of 
this  scene,  and  not  a  soul  of  us  shall  perish." 

Regarding  him  as  a  madman,  I  tore  the  door  from  its 
hinges  with  the  strength  of  despair,  and  rushing  to  the 
side  of  the  ship,  was  in  the  very  act  of  plunging  over- 
board, when  a  united  shriek  of  all  the  passengers  rose 
upon  my  ear,  and  I  paused  involuntarily  to  ascertain 
the  new  cause  of  alarm.  Scarcely  did  I  have  time  to 
cast  one  look  at  the  mountain,  ere  I  discovered  that  the 
flames  had  all  been  extinguished  at  its  crater,  and  that 
the  air  was  darkened  by  a  mass  of  vapor,  rendering  the 
sunlight  a  mockery  and  a  shadow.  But  this  eclipse 
was  our  redemption.  The  next  moment  a  sheet  of  cool 
water  fell  upon  the  ship,  and  in  such  incredible  masses, 
that  many  articles  were  washed  overboard,  and  the 
door  I  held  closely  in  my  hands  was  borne  away  by  the 
flood.  The  fire  was  completely  extinguished,  and,  ere 
we  knew  it,  the  danger  over. 

Greatly  puzzled  how  to  account  for  the  strange  turn 
in  our  affairs,  I  was  ready  at  the  moment  to  attribute  it 

to  Judge  E ,  and  I  had  almost  settled  the  question 

that  he  was  a  necromancer,  when  he  approached  me, 


The  Aztec  Princess.  109 

and  putting  an  open  volume  in  my  hand,  which  I  ascer- 
tained was  a  "History  of  the  Eepublic  of  Guatemala," 
I  read  the  following  incident: 

Nor  is  it  true  that  volcanoes  discharge  only  fire  and 
molten  lava  from  their  craters.  On  the  contrary,  they  fre- 
quently shower  down  water  in  almost  incredible  quantities, 
and  cause  oftentimes  as  much  mischief  by  floods  as  tbey  do 
by  flames.  An  instance  of  this  kind  occuiTed  in  the  year 
1542,  which  completely  demolished  one  half  the  buildings 
in  the  city  of  Guatemala.  It  was  chiefly  owing  to  this 
cause  that  the  site  of  the  city  was  changed;  the  ancient  site 
being  abandoned,  and  the  present  locality  selected  for  the 
capital.* 

Six  months  after  the  events  recorded  above,  I  dis- 
mounted from  my  mule  near  the  old  cahilda  in  the 
modern  village  of  Palenque.  During  that  interval  I 
had  met  with  the  usual  fortune  of  those  who  travel 
alone  in  the  interior  of  the  Spanish-American  States. 
The  war  of  castes  was  at  its  height,  and  the  cry  of  (7ar- 
rera  and  Morazaii  greeted  the  ear  of  the  stranger  at 
almost  every  turn  of  the  road.  Morazan  represented 
the  aristocratic  idea,  still  prevalent  amongst  the  better 
classes  in  Central  America;  whilst  Carrera,  on  the  other 
hand,  professed  the  wildest  liberty  and  the  extremest 
democracy.  The  first  carried  in  his  train  the  wealth, 
official  power,  and  refinement  of  the  country;  the  latter 
drew  after  him  that  huge  old  giant,  Plehs.,  who  in  days 
gone  by  has  pulled  down  so  many  thrones,  built  the 
groundwork  of  so  many  republics,  and  then,  by  fire  and 
sword  and  barbarian  ignorance,  laid  their  trophies  in  the 
dust.  My  sense  and  sympathy  took  diflerent  directions. 
Reason  led  me  to  the  side  of  Morazan;  but  early  preju- 
dices carried  me  over  to  Carrera.  Very  soon,  however, 
I  was  taught  the  lesson,  that  power  in  the  hands  of  the 

*  Thompson's  History  of  Guatemala,  p.  238. 


I  lo  Caxton  s  Book. 

rabble  is  the  greatest  curse  with  which  a  country  can 
be  afflicted,  and  that  a  paper  constiiuiion  never  yet  made 
men  free.  I  found  out,  too,  that  the  entire  population 
was  a  rabble  and  that  it  made  but  little  difference 
which  hero  was  in  the  ascendant.  The  plunder  of  the 
laboring-classes  was  equally  the  object  of  both,  and 
anarchy  the  fate  of  the  country,  no  matter  who  held  the 
reins.  Civil  wars  have  corrupted  the  whole  population. 
The  men  are  all  hravos,  and  the  women  coquettes.  The 
fireside  virtues  are  unknown.  It  will  be  generations 
before  these  pseudo-republicans  will  learn  that  there  can 
be  no  true  patriotismi^where  there  is  no  country;  there 
can  be  no  country  where  there  are  no  homes;  there  can 
be  no  home  where  woman  rules  not  from  the  throne  of 
Virtue  with  the  sceptre  of  Love! 

I  had  been  robbed  eighteen  times  in  six  months;  taken 
prisoner  four  times  by  each  party;  sent  in  chains  to  the 
city  of  Guatemala,  twice  by  Carrera,  and  once  by  Mor- 
azan  as  a  spy;  and  condemned  to  be  shot  as  a  traitor  by 
both  chieftains.  In  each  instance  I  owed  my  liberation 
to  the  American  Consul-General,  who,  having  heard  the 
object  with  which  I  visited  the  country,  determined  that 
it  should  not  be  thwarted  by  these  intestine  broils. 

Finally,  as  announced  above,  I  reached  the  present 
termination  of  my  journey,  and  immediately  commenced 
preparations  to  explore  the  famous  ruins  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  first  want  of  a  traveler,  no  matter 
whither  he  roams,  is  a  guide;  and  I  immediately  called 
at  the  redstone  residence  of  the  Alcalde,  and  mentioned 
to  him  my  name,  the  purport  of  my  visit  to  Central 
America,  and  the  object  of  my  present  call  upon  him. 
Eying  me  closely  from  head  to  foot,  lie  asked  me  if  I 
had  any  money  ("Tiene  V.  dinero  ?") 

"Si,  senor." 


The  Aztec  Princess.  1 1 1 

*'Cuauto?" 

"  Poco  mas  de  quiiiientos  pesos." 
"Bieu;  sieutase." 

So  I  took  a  seat  upon  a  sliuck-bottom  stool,  and 
awaited  the  next  move  of  the  liigli  dignitary.  Without 
responding  directly  to  my  application  for  a  guide,  he 
suddenly  turned  the  conversation,  and  demanded  if  I 
was  acquainted  with  Senor  Catherwood  or  el  gober- 
nador.  (I  afterwards  learned  that  Mr.  Stephens  was 
always  called  Governor  by  the  native  population  in  the 
vicinity  of  Palenque.)  I  responded  in  the  negative. 
He  then  informed  me  that  these  gentlemen  had  sent 
him  a  copy  of  their  work  on  Chiapas,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  large  volume,  that  had  been  recently  translated 
into  Spanish  by  a  member  of  the  Spanish  Academy, 
named  Don  Donoso  Cortes,  which  he  placed  in  my 
hands. 

My  astonishment  can  be  better  imagined  than  de- 
scribed, when,  on  turning  to  the  title-page,  I  ascer- 
tained that  the  book  was  called  "Nature's  Divine  Reve- 
lations.    By  A.  J.  Davis.     Traducido,  etc." 

Observing  my  surprise,  the  Alcalde  demanded  if  I 
knew  the  author. 

"Most  assuredly,"  said  I;    "he  is  my "     But  I 

must  not  anticipate. 

After  assuring  me  that  he  regarded  the  work  as  the 
greatest  book  in  the  world,  next  to  the  Bible  and  Don 
Quixote,  and  that  he  fully  believed  every  line  in  it, 
including  the  preface,  he  abruptly  left  the  room,  and 
went  into  the  court-yard  behind  the  house. 

I  had  scarcely  time  to  take  a  survey  of  the  ill-furnished 
apartment,  when  he  returned,  leading  in  by  a  rope, 
made  of  horsehair,  called  a  "  larriete,"  a  youth  whose 
arms  were  pinioned  behind  him,  and  whose  features 
wore  the  most  remarkable  expression  I  ever  beheld. 


112  Caxtofzs  Book. 

Amazed,  I  demanded  who  tins  young  man  was,  and' 
wdiy  lie  had  been  introduced  to  my  notice.  He  replied^ 
without  noticing  in  the  slightest  degree  my  surprise, 
that  Pio — for  that  was  his  name — was  the  best  guide  to 
the  ruins  that  the  village  afforded;  that  he  was  taken 
prisoner  a  few  months  before  from  a  marauding  party 
of  Caribs  (here  the  young  man  gave  a  low,  peculiar 
whistle  and  a  negative  shake  of  the  head),  and  that  if 
his  escape  could  be  prevented  by  me,  he  would  be  found 
to  be  invaluable. 

I  then  asked  Pio  if  he  understood  the  Spanish  lan- 
guage, but  he  evinced  no  comprehension  of  what  I  said. 
The  Alcalde  remarked  that  the  rnozo  was  very  cunning, 
and  understood  a  great  deal  more  than  he  pretended; 
that  he  was  by  law  his  (the  Alcalde's)  slave,  being  a 
Carib  by  birth,  and  uninstructed  totally  in  religious  ex- 
ercises; in  fact,  that  he  was  a  neophyte,  and  had  been 
placed  in  his  hands  by  the  Padre  to  teach  the  rudiments 
of  Christianity. 

I  next  demanded  of  Pio  if  he  was  willing  to  conduct 
me  to  the  ruins.  A  gleam  of  joy  at  once  illuminated 
his  features,  and,  throwing  himself  at  my  feet,  he  gazed 
upward  into  my  face  with  all  the  simplicity  of  a  child. 

But  I  did  not  fail  to  notice  the  peculiar  posture  he 
assumed  whilst  sitting.  It  was  not  that  of  the  American 
Indian,  who  carelessly  lolls  upon  the  ground,  nor  that 
of  the  Hottentot,  who  sits  flatly,  with  his  knees  upraised. 
On  the  contrary,  the  attitude  was  precisely  the  same  as 
that  sculptured  on  the  basso-rilievos,  at  Uxmal,  Palenque, 
and  throughout  the  region  of  Central  American  ruins. 
I  had  first  observed  it  in  the  Aztec  children  exhibited  a 
few  years  ago  throughout  the  United  States.  The 
weight  of  the  body  seemed  to  be  thrown  on  the  insid© 
of  the  thighs,  and  the  feet  turned  outward,  but  drawn 


The  Aztec  Princess.  113 

Tip  closel}-  to  the  body.  No  sooner  did  I  notice  tliis 
circumstance  than  I  requested  Pio  to  rise,  which  he 
did.  Then,  pretending  suddenly  to  change  my  mind,  I 
requested  him  to  be  seated  again.  This  I  did  to  ascer- 
tain if  the  first  attitude  was  accidental.  But  on  resum- 
ing his  seat,  he  settled  down  with  great  ease  and  celerity 
into  the  self-same  position,  and  I  felt  assured  that  I  was 
not  mistaken.  It  would  have  required  the  united  cer- 
tificates of  all  the  population  in  the  village,  after  that, 
to  convince  me  that  Pio  was  a  Carib.  But  aside  from 
this  circumstance,  which  might  by  possibility  have  been 
accidental,  neither  the  color,  expression,  nor  structure 
of  his  face  indicated  Caribbean  descent.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  head  was  smaller,  the  hair  finer,  the  com- 
plexion several  shades  lighter,  and  the  facial  angle 
totally  different.  There  was  a  much  closer  resemblance 
to  Jew  than  to  Gentile;  indeed,  the  peculiar  curve  of  the 
nose,  and  the  Syrian  leer  of  the  eye,  disclosed  an  Israel- 
itish  ancestry  rather  than  an  American. 

Having  settled  these  points  in  my  own  mind  very 
rapidly,  the  Alcalde  and  I  next  chaffered  a  few  moments 
over  the  price  to  be  paid  for  Pio's  services.  This  was 
soon  satisfactorily  arranged,  and  the  boy  was  delivered 
into  my  charge.  But  before  doing  so  formally,  the 
Alcalde  declared  that  I  must  never  release  him  whilst  in 
the  woods  or  amongst  the  ruins,  or  else  he  would  escape, 
and  fly  back  to  his  barbarian  friends,  and  the  Holy 
Apostolic  Church  would  lose  a  convert.  He  also  added, 
by  way  of  epilogue,  that  if  I  permitted  him  to  get 
away,  his  price  was  den  pesos  (one  hundred  dollars). 

The  next  two  hours  were  devoted  to  preparations  for 
a  life  in  the  forest.      I  obtained  the  services  of  two 
additional  persons;  one  to  cook  and  the  other  to  assist 
in  clearing  away  rubbish  and  stones  from  the  ruins. 
8 


114  Cax ton's  Book. 

Mounting  my  mule,  already  heavily  laden  witli  pro- 
visions, mosquito  bars,  bedding,  cooking  utensils,  etc., 
we  turned  our  faces  toward  the  southeast,  and  left  the 
modern  village  of  Palenque.  For  the  first  mile  I  obeyed 
strictly  the  injunctions  of  the  Alcalde,  and  held  Pio 
tightly  by  the  rope.  But  shortly  afterwards  we  crossed 
a  rapid  stream,  and  on  mounting  the  opposite  bank,  we 
entered  a  dense  forest.  The  trees  were  of  a  gigantic 
size,  very  lofty,  and  covered  from  trunk  to  top  with 
parasites  of  every  conceivable  kind.  The  undergrowth 
was  luxuriant,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  found  ourselves 
buried  in  a  tomb  of  tropical  vegetation.  The  light  of 
the  sun  never  penetrates  those  realms  of  perpetual 
shadow,  and  the  atmosphere  seems  to  take  a  shade  from 
the  pervading  gloom.  Occasionally  a  bright- plumed 
songster  would  start  up  and  dart  through  the  inaccessi- 
ble foliage,  but  more  frequently  we  disturbed  snakes 
and  lizards  in  our  journey. 

After  traversing  several  hundred  yards  of  this  prim- 
eval forest  I  called  a  halt,  and  drew  Pio  close  up  to  the 
side  of  my  mule.  Then,  taking  him  by  the  shoulder, 
I  wheeled  him  round  quickly,  and  drawing  a  large 
knife  which  I  had  purchased  to  cut  away  the  thick  foliage 
in  my  exploration,  I  deliberately  severed  the  cords 
from  his  hands,  and  set  him  free.  Instead  of  bounding 
off  like  a  startled  deer,  as  my  attendants  expected  to  see 
him  do,  he  seized  my  hand,  pressed  it  respectfully  be- 
tween his  own,  raised  the  back  of  it  to  his  forehead, 
and  then  imprinted  a  kiss  betwixt  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger. Immediately  afterward,  he  began  to  whistle  in 
a  sweet  low  tone,  and  taking  the  lead  of  the  party,  con- 
ducted us  rapidly  into  the  heart  of  the  forest. 

We  had  proceeded  about  seven  or  eight  miles,  cross- 
ing two  or  three  small  rivers  in  our  way,  when  the  guide 


The  Aztec  Princess.  1 1 5 

suddenly  threw  up  his  hands,  and  pointing  to  a  huge 
pile  of  rubbish  and  ruins  in  the  distance,  exclaimed 
''ElFalador 

This  was  the  first  indication  he  had  as  yet  given  of  his 
ability  to  speak  or  to  understand  the  Spanish,  or,  indeed, 
any  tongue,  and  I  was  congratulating  myself  upon  the 
discovery,  when  he  subsided  into  a  painful  silence,  in- 
terrupted only  by  an  occasional  whistle,  nor  would  he 
make  any  intelligible  reply  to  the  simplest  question. 

We  pushed  on  rapidly,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  I 
stood  upon  the  summit  of  the  pyramidal  structure,  upon 
which,  as  a  base,  the  ruins  known  as  El  Palacio  are 
situated. 

These  ruins  have  been  so  frequently  described,  that  I 
deem  it  unnecessary  to  enter  into  any  detailed  account 
of  them;  especially  as  by  doing  so  but  little  progress 
would  be  made  with  the  more  important  portions  of  this 
narrative.  If,  therefore,  the  reader  be  curious  to  get  a 
more  particular  insight  into  the  form,  size,  and  appear- 
ance of  these  curious  remains,  let  him  consult  the 
splendidly  illuminated  pages  of  Del  Kio,  Waldeck,  and 
Dupaix.  Nor  should  Stephens  and  Catherwood  be 
neglected;  for  though  their  explorations  are  less  scien- 
tific and  thorough  than  either  of  the  others,  yet  being 
more  modern,  they  will  prove  not  less  interesting. 

Several  months  had  now  elapsed  since  I  swung  my 
hammock  in  one  of  the  corridors  of  the  old  palace. 
The  rainy  season  had  vanished,  and  the  hot  weather 
once  more  set  in  for  the  summer.  Still  I  worked  on.  I 
took  accurate  and  correct  drawings  of  every  engraved 
entablature  I  could  discover.  "With  the  assistance  of  my 
taciturn  guide,  nothing  seemed  to  escape  me.  Certain 
am  I  that  I  was  enabled  to  copy  hasso-rilievos  never  seen 


1 1 6  Caxton  s  Book. 

by  any  of  the  great  travelers  wliose  works  I  liad  read; 
for  Pio  seemed  to  know  by  intuition  exactly  where  they 
were  to  be  found.  My  collection  was  far  more  com- 
plete than  Mr.  Catherwood's,  and  more  faithful  to  the 
original  than  Lord  Kingsborough's.  Pio  leaned  over 
my  shoulder  whilst  I  was  engaged  in  drawing,  and  if  I 
committed  the  slightest  error  his  quick  glance  detected 
it  at  once,  and  a  short,  rough  whistle  recalled  my  pencil 
back  to  its  duty. 

Finally,  I  completed  the  last  drawing  I  intended  to 
make,  and  commenced  preparations  to  leave  my  quar- 
ters, and  select  others  affording  greater  facilities  for 
the  study  of  the  various  problems  connected  with  these 
mysterious  hieroglyphics.  I  felt  fully  sensible  of  the 
immense  toil  before  me,  but  having  determined  long 
since  to  devote  my  whole  life  to  the  task  of  interpreting 
these  silent  historians  of  buried  realms,  hope  gave  me 
strength  to  venture  upon  the  work,  and  the  first  step 
toward  it  had  just  been  successfully  accomplished. 

But  what  were  paintings,  and  drawings,  and  sketches, 
without  some  key  to  the  system  of  hieroglyphs,  or 
some  clue  to  the  labyrinth,  into  which  I  had  entered  ? 
For  hours  I  sat  and  gazed  at  the  voiceless  signs  before 
me,  dreaming  of  Champollion,  and  the  Rosetta  Stone, 
and  vainly  hoping  that  some  unheard-of  miracle  would 
be  wrought  in  my  favor,  by  which  a  single  letter  might 
be  interpreted.  But  the  longer  I  gazed,  the  darker 
became  the  enigma,  and  the  more  difficult  seemed  its 
solution. 

I  had  not  even  the  foundation,  upon  which  Dr. 
Young,  and  Lepsius,  and  De  Lacy,  and  Champollion 
commenced.  There  were  no  living  Copts,  who  spoke  a 
dialect  of  the  dead  tongue  in  which  the  historian  had 
engraved   his   annals.     There  were  no  descendants  of 


J  he  Aztec  Princess.  1 1 7 

the  extinct  nations,  whose  sole  memorials  were  the 
•crumbling  ruins  before  me.  Time  had  left  no  teacher 
whose  lessons  might  result  in  success.  Tradition  even, 
with  her  uncertain  light,  threw  no  flickering  glare 
around,  by  which  the  groping  archaeologist  might  weave 
an  imaginary  tale  of  the  past. 

"  Chaos  of  ruius,  who  shall  trace  the  void, 
O'er  the  dim  fragments  cast  a  luuar  light, 
And  say,  '  Rnc  was,  or  is,'  where  all  is  doubly  night  ?" 


CHAPTER   III. 

"I  must  except,  however,  the  attempt  to  explore  an  aqueduct,  which 
^e  made  together.  Within,  it  was  i^erfectly  dark,  and  we  could  not 
move  without  candles.  The  sides  were  of  smooth  stones,  about  four  feet 
high,  and  the  roof  was  made  by  stones  lapping  over  like  the  comdors 
of  the  buildings.  At  a  short  distance  from  the  entrance,  the  passage 
turned  to  the  left,  and  at  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  it 
was  completely  blocked  up  by  the  ruius  of  the  roof  which  had  fallen 
down." — Incidents  of  Travel  in  Chiapas. 

One  day  I  had  been  unusually  busy  in  arranging  my 
drawings  and  forming  them  into  something  like  system, 
and  toward  evening,  had  taken  my  seat,  as  I  always 
did,  just  in  front  of  the  large  hasso-rilievo  ornamenting 
the  main  entrance  into  the  corridor  of  the  palace,  when 
Pio  approached  me  from  behind  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
my  shoulder. 

Not  having  observed  his  approach,  I  was  startled  by 
the  suddenness  of  the  contact,  and  sprang  to  my  feet, 
half  in  surprise  and  half  in  alarm.  He  had  never  before 
been  guilty  of  such  an  act  of  impoliteness,  and  I  was  on 
the  eve  of  rebuking  him  for  his  conduct,  when  I  caught 
the  kind  and  intelligent  expression  of  his  eye,  which  at 
once  disarmed  me,  and  attracted  most  strongly  my 
attention.  Slowly  raising  his  arm,  he  pointed  with  the 
forefinger  of  his  right  hand  to  the  entablature  before 
us  and  began  to  whistle  most  distinctly,  yet  most  musi- 


1 1 8  Caxtoji  s  Book, 

callj,  a  low  monody,  which  resembled  the  cadencial 
rise  and  fall  of  the  voice  in  reading  poetry.  Occasion- 
ally, his  tones  would  almost  die  entirely  away,  then 
rise  very  high,  and  then  modulate  themselves  with  the 
strictest  regard  to  rhythmical  measure.  His  finger  ran 
rapidly  over  the  hieroglyphics,  first  from  left  to  right, 
and  then  from  right  to  left. 

In  the  utmost  amazement  I  turned  toward  Pio,  and 
demanded  what  he  meant.  Is  this  a  musical  composi- 
tion, exclaimed  I,  that  you  seem  to  be  reading?  My 
companion  uttered  no  reply,  but  proceeded  rapidly 
with  his  task.  For  more  than  half  an  hour  he  was 
engaged  in  whistling  down  tho  double  column  of  hiero- 
glyphics engraved  upon  the  entablature  before  me.  So 
soon  as  his  task  was  accomplished,  and  without  oiferiug 
the  slightest  explanation,  he  seized  my  hand  and  made 
a  signal  for  me  to  follow. 

Having  provided  himself  with  a  box  of  lucifer  matches 
and  a  fresh  candle,  he  placed  the  same  implements  in 
my  possession,  and  started  in  advance.  I  obeyed  almost 
instinctively. 

We  passed  into  the  innermost  apartments  of  El  PcdaciOf 
and  approached  a  cavernous  opening  into  which  Mr. 
Stephens  had  descended,  and  which  he  supposed  had 
been  used  as  a  tomb. 

It  was  scarcely  high  enough  in  the  pitch  to  enable  me 
to  stand  erect,  and  I  felt  a  cool  damp  breeze  pass 
over  my  brow,  such  as  we  sometimes  encounter  upon 
entering  a  vault. 

Pio  stopped  and  deliberately  lighted  his  candle  and 
beckoned  me  to  do  the  same.  As  soon  as  this  was 
efiected,  he  advanced  into  the  darkest  corner  of  the 
dungeon,  and  stooping  with  his  mouth  to  the  floor,  gave 
a  long,  shrill  whistle.     The  next  moment,  one  of  the 


The  Aztec  Princess.  1 1 9 

paving-stdnes  was  raised  frovn  ivilMn,  and  I  belield  an 
almost  perpendicular  stone  staircase  leading  down  still 
deeper  under  ground.  Calling  me  to  liis  side,  lie 
pointed  to  the  entrance  and  made  a  gesture  for  me  to 
descend.  My  feelings  at  this  moment  may  be  better 
imagined  than  described.  My  memory  ran  back  to  the 
information  given  me  by  the  Alcalde,  that  Pio  was  a 
Carib,  and  I  felt  confident  that  he  had  confederates 
close  at  hand.  The  Caribs,  I  well  knew,  had  never 
been  christianized  nor  subdued,  but  roved  about  the 
adjacent  swamps  and  fastnesses  in  their  aboriginal  state. 
I  had  frequently  read  of  terrible  massacres  perpetrated 
by  them,  and  the  dreadful  fate  of  William  Beanham,  so 
thrillingly  told  by  Mr.  Stephens  in  his  second  volume, 
uprose  in  my  mind  at  this  instant,  with  fearful  distinct- 
ness. But  then,  thought  I,  what  motive  can  this  poor 
boy  have  in  alluring  me  to  ruin?  What  harm  have  I 
done  him?  Plunder  surely  cannot  be  his  object,  for  he 
was  present  when  I  intrusted  all  I  possessed  to  the  care 
of  the  Alcalde  of  the  village.  These  considerations 
left  my  mind  in  equal  balance,  and  I  turned  around  to 
confront  my  companion,  and  draw  a  decision  from  the 
expression  of  his  countenance. 

One  look  reassured  me  at  once.  A  playful  smile 
wreathed  his  lips,  and  lightened  over  his  face  a  gleam 
of  real  benevolence,  not  unmixed,  as  I  thought,  with 
pity.  Hesitating  no  longer,  I  preceded  him  into  those 
realms  of  subterranean  night.  Down,  down,  down,  I 
trod,  until  there  seemed  no  bottom  to  the  echoing  cav- 
ern. Each  moment  the  air  grew  heavier,  and  our  can- 
dles began  to  flicker  and  grow  dimmer,  as  the  impurities 
of  the  confined  atmosphere  became  more  and  more  per- 
ceptible. My  head  felt  lighter,  and  began  to  swim. 
My  lungs  respired  with  greater  difficulty,  and  my  knees 
knocked  and  jostled,  as  though  faint  from  weakness. 


I20  Caxton  s  Book. 

Still  there  seemed  no  end  to  the  descent.  Tramp, 
tramp,  tramp,  I  heard  the  footsteps  of  my  guide  behind 
me,  and  I  vainly  explored  the  darkness  before.  At 
length  we  reached  a  broad  even  platform,  covered  over 
with  the  peculiar  tiling  found  among  these  ruins.  As 
soon  as  Pio  reached  the  landing-place,  he  beckoned 
me  to  be  seated  on  the  stone  steps,  which  I  was  but  too 
glad  to  do.  He  at  once  followed  my  example,  and 
seemed  no  less  rejoiced  than  I  that  the  descent  had 
been  safely  accomplished. 

I  once  descended  from  the  summit  of  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  and  counted  the  steps,  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom.  That  number  I  made  465.  The  estimate  of 
the  depth  of  this  cavern,  made  at  the  time,  led  me  to 
believe  that  it  was  nearly  equal  to  the  height  of  that 
column.  But  there  was  no  railing  by  which  to  cling, 
and  no  friend  to  interrupt  my  fall,  in  case  of  accident. 
Pio  was  hehind  me! 

After  I  became  somewhat  rested  from  the  fatigue, 
my  curiosity  returned  with  tenfold  force,  and  I  sur- 
veyed the  apartment  with  real  pleasure.  It  was  per- 
fectly circular,  and  was  about  fifteen  feet  in  diameter, 
and  ten  feet  high.  The  walls  seemed  to  be  smooth, 
except  a  close,  damp  coating  of  moss,  that  age  and 
humidity  had  fastened  upon  them. 

I  could  perceive  no  exit,  except  the  one  by  which  we 
had  reached  it. 

But  I  was  not  permitted  to  remain  long  in  doubt  on 
this  point;  for  Pio  soon  rose,  walked  to  the  side  of  the 
chamber  exactly  opposite  the  stairs,  whistled  shrilly, 
as  before,  and  an  aperture  immediately  manifested 
itself,  large  enough  to  admit  the  body  of  a  man! 
Through  this  he  crawled,  and  beckoned  me  to  follow. 
No  sooner  had  I  crept  through  the  wall,  than  the  stone 


The  Aztec  Princess.  121 

dropped  from  above,  and  closed  tlie  orifice  completely. 
I  now  found  myself  standing  erect  in  what  appeared  to 
be  a  subterranean  aqueduct.  It  was  precisely  of  tlie 
same  size,  with  a  flat,  cemented  floor,  shelving  sides, 
and  circular,  or  rather  Aztec-arched  roof.  The  passage 
was  not  straight,  but  wound  about  with  frequent  turn- 
ings as  far  as  we  pursued  it. 

Whj'  these  curves  were  made,  I  never  ascertained, 
-although  afterward  I  gave  the  subject  much  attention. 
"We  started  down  the  aqueduct  at  a  brisk  pace,  our 
-candles  being  frequently  extinguished  by  fresh  drafts 
of  air,  that  struck  us  at  almost  every  turn.  Whenever 
they  occurred,  we  paused  a  moment,  to  reillume  them, 
.and  then  hastened  on,  as  silently  and  swiftly  as  before. 

After  traversing  at  least  five  or  six  miles  of  this 
passage,  occasionally  passing  arched  chambers  like 
that  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  we  suddenly  reached 
the  termination  of  the  aqueduct,  which  was  an  apart- 
ment the  facsimile  of  the  one  at  the  other  end  of  it. 
Here  also  we  observed  a  stone  stairway,  and  my  com- 
panion at  once  began  the  ascent.  During  our  journey 
through  the  long  arched  way  behind  us,  we  frequently 
passed  through  rents,  made  possibly  by  earthquakes, 
and  more  than  once  were  compelled  to  crawl  through 
-openings  half  filled  with  rubbish,  sand  and  stones. 
Nor  was  the  road  dry  in  all  places.  Indeed,  generally, 
the  floor  w^as  wet,  and  twice  we  forded  small  brooks 
that  ran  directly  across  the  path.  Behind  us,  and 
before,  we  could  distinctly  hear  the  water  dripping 
from  the  ceiling,  and  long  before  we  reached  the  end 
•of  the  passage,  our  clothing  had  been  completely  sat- 
urated. It  was,  therefore,  with  great  and  necessary 
caution,  that  I  followed  my  guide  up  the  slippery  stairs. 
Our  ascent  was  not  so  tedious  as  our  descent  had  been, 


122  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

nor  was  the  distance  apparently  more  than  half  so 
great  to  the  surface.  Pio  paused  a  moment  at  the 
head  of  the  stairway,  extinguished  his  candle,  and  then 
requested  me  by  a  gesture  to  do  likewise.  When  this 
was  accomplished,  he  touched  a  spring  and  the  trap- 
door flew  open,  upwards.  The  next  instant  I  found 
myself  standing  in  a  chamber  but  dimly  lighted  from 
above.  We  soon  emerged  into  open  daylight,  and 
there,  for  the  lirst  time  since  the  conquest  of  Mexico 
by  Cortes,  the  eyes  of  a  white  man  rested  upon  the 
gigantic  ruins  of  La  Casa  Grande. 

These  ruins  are  far  more  extensive  than  any  yet  ex- 
plored by  travelers  in  Central  America.  Hitherto,  they 
have  entirely  escaped  observation.  The  natives  of  the 
country  are  not  even  aware  of  their  existence,  and  it 
will  be  many  years  before  they  are  visited  by  the 
curious. 

But  here  they  were,  a  solid  reality!  Frowning  on  the 
surrounding  gloom  of  the  forest,  and  the  shadows  of 
approaching  night,  they  stretched  out  on  every  side, 
like  the  bodies  of  dead  giants  slain  in  battle  with  the 
Titans. 

Daylight  was  nearly  gone,  and  it  soon  became  impos- 
sible to  see  anything  with  distinctness.  For  the  iirsj^ 
time,  the  peculiarity  of  my  lonely  situation  forced  itself 
upon  my  attention.  I  was  alone  with  the  Carib  boy. 
I  had  not  even  brought  my  side-arms  with  me,  and  I 
knew  that  it  was  now  too  late  to  make  any  attempt  to 
escape  through  the  forest.  The  idea  of  returning  by 
the  subterranean  aqueduct  never  crossed  my  mind  as  a 
possibility;  for  my  nerves  flinched  at  the  bare  thought 
of  the  shrill  whistle  of  Pio,  and  the  mysterious  obe- 
dience of  the  stones. 

Whilst  revolving  these  unpleasant  ideas  through  my 


The  Aztec  Princess.  i2X 


y 


brain,  the  boy  approaclied  me  respectfully,  opened  a 
snaall  knapsack  that  I  bad  not  before  observed  be  car- 
ried, and  offered  me  some  food.  Hungry  and  fatigued 
as  I  was,  I  could  not  eat;  the  same  peculiar  smile 
passed  over  his  features;  be  rose  and  left  me  for  a  mo- 
ment, returned,  and  offered  me  a  gourd  of  water.  After 
drinking,  I  felt  greatly  refresbed,  and  endeavored  to 
draw  my  companion  into  a  conversation.  But  all  to  ncv 
purpose.  He  soon  fell  asleep,  and  I  too,  ere  long, 
was  quietly  reposing  in  tbe  deptbs  of  tbe  forest. 

It  may  seem  remarkable  that  tbe  ruins  of  Casa  Grande 
bave  never  been  discovered,  as  yet,  by  professional  trav- 
elers.    But  it  requires  only  a  slight  acquaintance  witb 
tbe  cbaracteristics  of  tbe  surrounding  country,  and  a 
peep  into  the  intricacies  of  a  tropical  forest,  to  dispel 
at  once  all  wonder  on  tbis  subject.     These  ruins  are 
situated  about  five  miles  in  a  westerly  direction  from 
tbose  known  as  El  Palacio,  and  originally  constituted 
a  part  of  tbe  same  city.     They  are  as  mucb  more  grand 
and  extensive  than  those  of  M  Palacio  as  those  are  than 
tbe  remains   at  Uxmal,  or  Copan.      In  fact,  tliey  are 
gigantic,  and  reminded  me  forcibly  of  tbe  great  Temple 
of  Karnak,  on  tbe  banks  of  the  Nile.    But  tbey  lie  buried 
ifi  the  fastnesses  of  a  tropical  forest.     One  half  of  tbem 
is  entombed  in  a  sea  of  vegetation,  and  it  would  require 
a  thousand  men  more  than  a  wbole  year  to  clear  away 
tbe  majestic  groves  tbat  shoot  up  like  sleepless  sentinels 
from  court-yard  and  corridor,  send  tbeir  fantastic  roots, 
into  tbe  bedcbamber  of  royalty,  and  drop  tbeir  annual 
foliage  upon  pavements  where  princes  once  played  in 
their  infancy,  and  courtiers  knelt  in  tbeir  pride.      A 
thousand  vines  and  parasites  are  climbing  in  every  di- 
rection, over  portal  and  pillar,  over  corridor  and  sacri- 
ficial shrine.    So  deeply  sbrouded  in  vegetation  are  tbese 


124  Caxton  s  Book. 

awful  memorials  of  dead  dynasties,  tliat  a  traveler  might 
approach  within  a  few  steps  of  the  pyramidal  mound, 
upon  which  they  are  built,  and  yet  be  totally  unaware 
of  their  existence.  I  cannot  convey  a  better  idea  of  the 
difficulties  attending  a  discovery  and  explanation  of 
these  ruins  than  to  quote  what  Mr.  Stephens  has  said 
oi  El  Palacio.  "The  whole  country  for  miles  around 
is  covered  by  a  dense  forest  of  gigantic  trees,  with  a 
growth  of  brush  and  underwood  unknown  in  the  wooded 
deserts  of  our  own  country,  and  impenetrable  in  any 
direction,  except  by  cutting  away  with  a  machete.  What 
lies  buried  in  that  forest  it  is  impossible  to  say  of  my 
own  knowledge.  Without  a  guide  we  might  have  gone 
within  a  hundred  feet  of  all  the  buildings  without  dis- 
covering one  of  them. 

I  awoke  with  a  start  and  a  shudder.  Something  cold 
and  damp  seemed  to  have  touched  my  forehead,  and  left 
a  chill  that  penetrated  into  my  brain.  How  long  I  had 
been  asleep,  I  have  no  means  of  ascertaining;  but  judg- 
ing from  natural  instinct,  I  presume  it  was  near  mid- 
night when  I  awoke.  I  turned  my  head  toward  my  com- 
panion, and  felt  some  relief  on  beholding  him  just 
where  he  had  fallen  asleep.  He  was  breathing  heavily, 
and  was  completely  buried  in  unconsciousness.  When 
I  was  fully  aroused  I  felt  most  strangely.  I  had  never 
experienced  the  same  sensation  but  once  before  in  my 
whole  life,  and  that  was  whilst  in  company  with  Judge 
E on  the  stone  ramparts  of  Castillo  Viejo. 

I  was  Ijdng  flat  upon  my  back,  with  my  left  hand  rest- 
ing gently  on  my  naked  right  breast,  and  my  right  hand 
raised  perpendicularly  from  my  body.  The  arm  rested 
on  the  elbow  and  was  completely  paralyzed,  or  in  com- 
mon parlance,  asleep. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  1 2  5 

On  opening  my  eyes,  I  observed  tliat  the  full  moon 
was  in  mid-heavens,  and  the  night  almost  as  bright  as 
day.  I  could  distinctly  see  the  features  of  Pio,  and  even 
noticed  the  regular  rise  and  fall  of  his  bosom,  as  the 
tides  of  life  ebbed  and  flowed  into  his  lungs.  The  huge 
old  forest  trees,  that  had  been  standing  amid  the  ruins 
for  unnumbered  centuries,  loomed  up  into  the  moon- 
shine, hundreds  of  feet  above  me,  and  cast  their  deep 
black  shadows  upon  the  pale  marbles,  on  whose  frag- 
ments I  was  reposing. 

All  at  once,  I  perceived  that  my  hand  and  arm  were 
in  rapid  motion.  It  rested  on  the  elbow  as  a  fiilcrum, 
and  swayed  back  and  forth,  round  and  round,  with  great 
ease  and  celerity.  Perfectly  satisfied  that  it  moved 
without  any  effort  of  my  own  will,  I  was  greatly  puzzled 
to  arrive  at  any  satisfactory  solution  of  the  phenomenon. 
The  idea  crossed  my  mind  that  the  effect  was  of  spiritual 
origin,  and  that  I  had  become  self-magnetized.  I  had 
read  and  believed  that  the  two  sides  of  the  human  frame 
are  differently  electrified,  and  the  curious  phases  of 
the  disease  called  paralysis  sufficiently  established  the 
dogma,  that  one  half  the  body  may  die,  and  yet  the 
other  half  live  on.  I  had  many  times  experimented  on 
the  human  hand,  and  the  philosophical  fact  had  long 
been  demonstrated,  to  my  own  satisfaction,  that  the  in- 
side of  the  hand  is  totally  different  from  the  outside.  If 
we  desire  to  ascertain  the  temperature  of  any  object,  we 
instinctively  touch  it  with  the  inside  of  the  fingers;  on 
the  contrary,  if  we  desire  to  ascertain  our  own  tempera- 
ture, we  do  so  by  laying  the  back  of  the  hand  upon 
some  isolated  and  indiflereut  object.  Convinced,  there- 
fore, that  the  right  and  left  sides  of  the  human  body  are 
differently  magnetized,  I  was  not  long  in  finding  a  solu- 
tion of  the  peculiar  phenomenon,  which  at  first  aston- 


126  Caxtons  Book. 

islied  me  so  greatly.  In  fact,  my  body  had  become  an 
electrical  machine,  and  by  bringing  the  two  poles  into 
contact,  as  was  affected  by  linking  my  right  and  left  sides 
together,  by  means  of  my  left  hand,  a  battery  had  been 
formed,  and  the  result  was,  the  paralj'sis  or  magnetiza- 
tion of  my  right  arm  and  hand,  such  being  precisely 
the  effect  caused  by  a  spiritual  circle, — as  it  has  been 
denominated.  My  arm  and  hand  represented,  in  all 
respects,  a  table  duly  charged,  and  the  same  phe- 
nomenon could  be  produced,  if  I  was  right  in  my 
conjectures. 

Immediately,  therefore,  I  set  about  testing  the  truth 
of  this  hypothesis.  I  asked,  half  aloud,  if  there  were 
■any  spirits  present.  My  hand  instantly  closed,  except 
the  forefinger,  and  gave  three  distinctive  jerks  that 
almost  elevated  my  elbow  from  its  position.  A  negative 
Teply  was  soon  given  to  a  subsequent  question  by  a 
single  jerk  of  the  hand;  and  thus  I  was  enabled  to  hold 
a  conversation  in  monosyllables  with  my  invisible  com- 
panions. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  whole  of  the  interview 
which  followed.  I  will  only  add  that  portion  of  it 
which  is  intimately  connected  with  this  narrative. 
Strange  as  it  may  appear,  I  had  until  this  moment  for- 
gotten all  about  the  beautiful  apparition  that  appeared 
and  disappeared  so  mysteriously  at  Castillo  Viejo.  All 
xit  once,  however,  the  recollection  revived,  and  I  remem- 
bered the  promise  contained  in  the  single  word  she 
murmured,  ' '  Paleuque !  " 

Overmastering  my  excitement,  I  whispered: 

"  Beautiful  spirit,  that  once  met  me  on  the  ramparts 
Tvhere  Lord  Nelson  fought  and  conquered,  art  thou 
iere?" 

An  affirmative  reply. 

"Will  you  appear  and  redeem  your  promise?" 


The  Aztec  Princess.  127 

Sudclenl}',  tlie  branches  of  the  neighboring  trees 
■waved  and  nodded;  the  cold  marbles  about  me  seemed 
animated  with  life,  and  crashed  and  struck  each  other 
with  great  violence ;  the  old  pyramid  trembled  to 
its  centre,  as  if  shaken  by  an  earthquake;  and  the  forest 
around  moaned  as  though  a  tempest  was  sweeping  by. 
At  the  same  instant,  full  in  the  bright  moonlight,  and 
standing  within  three  paces  of  my  feet,  appeared  the 
Aztec  Princess,  whose  waving  panache,  flowing  garments 
-and  benignant  countenance  had  bewildered  me  many 
months  before,  on  the  moss-grown  parapet  of  Castillo 
Viejo. 

CHAPTEK    IV. 

"  Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
Uuseeu,  both  wheu  we  wake,  and  when  we  sleep." 

— Paeadise  Lost. 

"Was  I  dreaming,  or  was  the  vision  real,  that  vaj  eyes 
l)eheld  ?  This  was  the  first  calm  thought  that  coursed 
through  my  brain,  after  the  terror  and  amazement  had 
.subsided.  Awe-struck  I  certainly  was,  when  the  beau- 
tiful phantom  first  rose  upon  my  sight,  at  Castillo;  awe- 
struck once  more,  when  she  again  appeared,  amid  the 
gray  old  ruins  of  Casa  Grande.  I  have  listened  very 
often  to  the  surmises  of  others,  as  they  detailed  what 
they  would  do,  were  a  supernatural  being  to  rise  up 
suddenly  before  them.  Some  have  said,  they  would 
gaze  deliberately  into  the  face  of  the  phantom,  scan  its 
■every  feature,  and  coolly  note  down,  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  how  long  it  "walked,"  and  in  what  manner  it 
faded  from  the  sight.  The  nerves  of  these  very  men 
trembled  while  they  spoke,  and  had  an  apparition  burst 
at  that  instant  into  full  view,  these  heroes  in  imagina- 
tion would  have  crouched  and  hid  their  faces,  their 


12  8  Caxton  s  Book. 

teeth  chattering  Avith  terror,  and  their  hearts  beating 
their  swelling  sides,  as  audibly  as  the  convict  hears  his 
own  when  the  hangman  draws  the  black  cap  over  his 
unrepentant  head. 

I  blame  no  man  for  yielding  to  the  dictates  of  Nature. 
He  is  but  a  fool  who  feels  no  fear,  and  hears  not  a  warn- 
ing in  the  wind,  observes  not  a  sign  in  the  heavens,  and 
perceives  no  admonition  in  the  air,  when  hurricanes  are 
brooding,  clouds  are  gathering,  or  earthquakes  mutter- 
ing in  his  ears.  The  sane  mind  listens,  and  thwarts 
danger  by  its  apprehensions. 

The  true  hero  is  not  the  man  who  knoAvs  no  fear — for 
that  were  idiotic — but  he  who  sees  it,  and  escapes  it,  or 
meets  it  bravely.  Was  it  courage  in  the  elder  Pliny  to 
venture  so  closely  to  the  crater  of  Vesuvius,  whilst  in 
eruption,  that  he  lost  his  life  ?  How  can  man  make  war 
with  the  elements,  or  battle  with  his  God  ? 

There  is,  in  the  secret  chambers  of  every  human  heart, 
one  dark,  weird  cell,  over  whose  portal  is  inscribed — 
Mystery.  There  Superstition  sits  upon  her  throne; 
there  Idolatry  shapes  her  monsters,  and  there  Religion 
reveals  her  glories.  Within  that  cell,  the  soul  com- 
munes with  itself  most  intimately,  confesses  its  mid- 
night cowardice,  and  in  low  whispers  mutters  its  dread 
of  the  supernatural. 

All  races,  all  nations,  and  all  times  have  felt  its  in- 
fluences, oozing  like  imperceptible  dews  from  the  mouth 
of  that  dark  cavern. 

Vishnu  heard  its  deep  mutterings  in  the  morning  of 
our  race,  and  they  still  sound  hollow  but  indistinct,  like 
clods  upon  a  coffin-lid,  along  the  wave  of  each  genera- 
tion, as  it  rises  and  rolls  into  the  past.  Plato  and  Numa 
and  Cicero  and  Brutus  listened  to  its  prophetic  cadences, 
as  they  fell  upon  their  ears.     Mohammed  heard  them  in 


The  Aztec  Princess.  129 

Lis  cave,  Samuel  Johnson  in  bis  bed.    Poets  have  caught 

them  in  the 

"  Shivering  whisper  of  startled  leaves," 

martyrs  in  the  crackling  faggots,  heroes  amid  the  din 
of  battle. 

If  you  ask,  what  means  this  voice  ?  I  reply, 

"A  solemn  mnrmxn-  in  the  soul 
Tdls  of  the  world  to  he. 
As  travelers  hear  the  billows  roll 
Before  they  reach  the  sea. ' ' 

Let  no  man,  therefore,  boast  that  he  has  no  dread  of 
the  supernatural.  When  mortal  can  look  spirit  in  the 
face,  without  blanching,  man  will  be  immortal. 

To  convince  mj'self  that  I  did  not  dream,  I  rose  upon 
my  elbow,  and  reclined  for  a  moment  in  that  attitude. 
Gradually  I  gained  my  feet,  and  then  stood  confronting 
the  Aztec  maiden.  The  midnight  breeze  of  the  tropics 
had  set  in,  and  by  the  clear  moonlight  I  distinctly  saw 
the  panache  of  feathers  that  she  wore  upon  her  head 
swaying  gracefully  upon  the  air. 

Convinced  now,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  the  scene  was 
real,  the  ruling  desire  of  my  life  came  back  in  full  force 
upon  me,  and  I  spoke,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  the  follow- 
ing words : 

"Here  lies  a  buried  realm;  I  would  be  its  historian!" 

The  apparition,  without  any  reply  in  words,  glided 
toward  me,  and  approached  so  close  that  I  could  easily 
have  touched  her  had  I  dared.  But  a  sense  of  propri- 
ety subdued  all  unhallowed  curiosity,  and  I  determined 
to  submit  passively  to  all  that  my  new  friend  should  do. 
This  state  of  mind  seemed  at  once  known  to  her,  for 
she  smiled  approvingly,  and  came  still  nearer  to  where 
I  stood. 
9 


130  Caxton  s  Book. 

Elevating  lier  beautiful  arm,  she  passed  it  gently  over 
my  face,  her  hand  just  touching  my  features,  and  im- 
parting a  cool  sensation  to  my  skin.  I  distinctly  re- 
member that  the  hand  felt  damp.  No  sooner  was  this 
done  than  my  nervous  system  seemed  to  be  restored  to 
its  usual  tone,  and  every  sensation  of  alarm  vanished. 

My  brain  began  to  feel  light  and  swimmy,  and  my 
whole  frame  appeared  to  be  losing  its  weight.  This 
peculiar  sensation  gradually  increased  in  intensity  until 
full  conviction  flashed  upon  me  that  I  could,  by  an 
effort  of  will,  rise  into  the  air,  and  fly  with  all  the  ease 
and  rapidity  of  an  eagle. 

The  idea  was  no  sooner  fully  conceived,  than  I  noticed 
a  wavy,  unsteady  motion  in  the  figure  of  the  Aztec  Prin- 
cess, and  almost  immediately  afterwards,  I  perceived 
that  she  was  gradually  rising  from  the  broken  pavement 
upon  which  she  had  been  standing,  and  passing  slowly 
upwards  through  the  branches  of  the  overshadowing 
trees.  What  was  most  remarkable,  the  relative  distance 
between  us  did  not  seem  to  increase,  and  my  amaze- 
ment was  inconceivable,  when  on  casting  my  eyes 
toward  my  feet,  I  perceived  that  I  was  elevated  more 
than  twenty  yards  from  the  pavement  where  I  had  slept. 

My  ascent  had  been  so  gradual,  that  I  was  entirely 
unaware  of  moving,  and  now  that  I  became  sensible  of 
it,  the  motion  itself  was  still  imperceptible.  Upward, 
still  upward,  I  was  carried,  until  the  tallest  limbs  of  the 
loftiest  trees  had  been  left  far  below  me.  Still  the 
ascent  continued.  A  wide  and  beautiful  panorama  now 
opened  before  me.  Above,  all  was  flashing  moonlight 
and  starry  radiance.  The  beams  of  the  full  moon  grew 
more  brilliant  as  we  cleared  the  vapory  atmosphere 
contiguous  to  the  earth,  until  they  shone  with  half  the 
splendor  of  morn,  and  glanced  upon  the  features  of  my 


The  Aztec  Princess,  131 

•companion   with   a   mellow   slieen,  that   heightened   a 
thousandfold  her   supermundane    beauty.     Below,  the 
gray  old  relics  of  a  once  populous  capital  glimmered 
spectrally  in  the  distance,  looking  like  tombs,  shrouded 
by  a  weeping  forest;  whilst  one  by  one,  the  mourners 
lost  their  individuality,  and  ere  long  presented  but  a 
dark  mass  of  living  green.     After  having  risen  several 
hundred  feet  perpendicularly,  I  was  enabled  to  form  an 
estimate  of  the  extent  of   the  forest,  in  the  bosom  of 
which  sleep  and  moulder  the  monuments  of  the  aborig- 
inal Americans.     There  is  no  such  forest  existing  else- 
where on  the  surface  of   this  great  globe.     It  has  no 
parallel  in  nature.     The  Black  Forest  of  Germany,  the 
Thuringian   Forest  of   Saxony,  the   Cross  Timbers  of 
Texas,  the  dense  and  inaccessible  woods  cloaking  the 
headwaters  of  the  Amazon  and  the  La  Plata,  are  mere 
parks  in  comparison.    For  miles  and  miles,  leagues  and 
leagues,  it  stretched  out — north,  south,  east  and  west. 
It  covers  an  area  larger  than  the  island  of  Great  Britain; 
and  throughout  this  immense  extent  of  country  there  is 
but  one  mountain  chain,  and  but  one  river.     The  sum- 
mits of  this  range  have  been  but  seldom  seen  by  white 
men,  and  have  never  been  scaled.    The  river  drains  the 
whole  territory,  but  loses  itself  in  a  terrific  marsh  before 
its  tide  reaches  the  Mexican  gulf,  toward  which  it  runs. 
The  current  is  exceedingly  rapid;  and,  after  passing  for 
hundreds  of  miles  under  the  land  and  under  the  sea,  it 
unites  its  submarine  torrent  near  the  west  end  of  Cuba, 
with  that  of   the  Orinoco   and  the  Amazon,  and   thus 
forms  that  great  oceanic  river  called  the  Gulf  Stream. 
Professor  Maury  was  right  in  his  philosophic  conjecture 
as  to  the  origin  of  that  mighty  and  resistless  tide. 

Having  attained  a  great  height  perpendicularly  above 
the  spot  of  our  departure,  we  suddenly  dashed  off  with 


132  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

the  speed  of  an  express  locomotive,  toward  the  north- 
east. 

Wbitlier  we  were  hastening,  I  knew  not;  nor  did  I 
trouble  my  mind  with  any  useless  conjectures.  I  felt 
secure  in  the  power  of  my  companion,  and  sure  of  her 
protection.  I  knew  that  by  some  unaccountable  pro- 
cess she  had  neutralized  the  gravitating  force  of  a 
material  body,  had  elevated  me  hundreds,  perhaps 
thousands,  of  feet  in  the  atmosphere,  and  by  some 
mysterious  charm  was  attracting  me  toward  a  distant 
bourne.  Years  before,  whilst  a  medical  student  at  the- 
University  of  Louisiana,  the  professor  of  materia  medica 
had  opened  his  course  of  lectures  with  an  inquiry  into 
the  origin  and  essence  of  gravitation,  and  I  had  listened 
respectfully,  but  at  that  time  doubtingly,  to  the  theory 
he  propounded.  He  stated  that  it  was  not  unphilo- 
sophical  to  believe  that  the  time  would  arrive  when  the 
gravitating  power  of  dense  bodies  would  be  overcome,, 
and  balloons  constructed  to  navigate  the  air  with  the 
same  unerring  certainty  that  ships  traversed  the  ocean^ 

He  declared  that  gravitation  itself  was  not  a  cause 
but  an  efeci;  that  it  might  be  produced  by  the  rotation 
of  the  earth  uj)on  its  axis,  or  by  some  undiscovered 
current  of  electricity,  or  by  some  recondite  and  hitherto 
undetected  agent  or  force  in  nature.  Magnetism  he 
thought  a  species  of  electricity,  and  subsequent  investi- 
gations have  convinced  me  that  sympathy  or  animal 
magnetism  was  akin  to  the  same  parent  power.  By 
means  of  this  latter  agent  I  had  seen  the  human  body 
rendered  so  light  that  two  persons  could  raise  it  with  a 
single  finger  properly  applied.  More  than  this,  I  had 
but  recently  witnessed  at  Castillo,  dead  matter  clothed 
with  life  and  motion,  and  elevated  several  feet  into  the 
air  without  the  aid  of  any  human  agency.     This  age  I 


The  Aztec  Princess.  1 3  3 

linew  well  to  be  an  age  of  wonders.  Nature  was  yield- 
ing up  her  secrets  on  every  band;  tlie  boundary  between 
the  natural  and  the  spiritual  had  been  broken  down; 
new  worlds  were  flashing  upon  the  eyes  of  the  followers 
of  Galileo  almost  nightly  from  the  ocean  depths  of 
space.  Incalculable  treasures  had  been  discovered  in 
the  most  distant  ends  of  the  earth,  and  I,  unlettered 
hind  that  I  was,  did  not  presume  to  limit  the  power  of 
the  great  Creator,  and  because  an  act  seemed  impossi- 
ble to  my  narrow  vision,  and  within  my  limited  expe- 
rience, to  cry  aloud,  imposture,  or  to  mutter  sneeriugly, 
iiisaniti/. 

Before  proceeding  farther  with  the  thread  of  this 
narrative,  the  attention  of  the  reader  is  solicited  to  the 
careful  perusal  of  the  following  extracts  from  Stephens's 
Travels  hi  Central  America,  Chiapas  and  Yucatan,  pub- 
lished at  New  York  in  1841. 

But  the  Padre  told  us  more;  something  that  increased 
oux  excitement  to  the  highest  pitch.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  great  traversing  range  of  Cordilleras  lies  the  district  of 
Vera  Paz,  once  called  Tierra  de  Guerra,  or  land  of  war, 
from  the  warlike  character  of  its  aboriginal  inhabitants. 
Three  times  the  Spaniards  were  driven  back  in  their  attempt 
to  conquer  it.* 

The  rest  of  the  Tierra  de  Guerra  never  was  conquered; 
and  at  this  day  the  northeastern  section  bounded  by  the 
range  of  the  Cordilleras  and  the  State  of  Chiapa  is  occu- 
pied by  Cadones,  or  unbaptized  Indians,  who  live  as  their 
fathers  did,  acknowledging  no  submission  to  the  Spaniards, 
and  the  government  of  Central  America  does  not  pretend 
to  exercise  any  control  over  them.  But  the  thing  that 
roused  us  was  the  assertion  by  the  Padre  that  four  days  on 
■the  road  to  Mexico,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Great  Sierra, 
was  a  Living  City,  large  and  pojDulous,  occupied  by  Indians, 
precisely  in  the  same  state  as  before  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica. He  had  heard  of  it  many  years  before,  at  the  village  of 
<3hajal,  and  was  told  by  the  villagers  that  from  the  tojimost 

*  Page  193,  Vol.  2. 


134  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

ridge  of  the  Sierra  this  city  was  distinctly  visible.  He  was 
then  young,  and  with  much  labor  climlsed  to  the  naked 
summit  of  the  Sierra,  from  which,  at  a  height  of  ten  or 
twelve  thousand  feet,  he  looked  over  an  immense  plain  ex- 
tending to  Yucatan  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  saw  at  a 
great  distance  a  large  city,  spread  over  a  great  space,  and 
with  turrets  white  and  glittering  in  the  sun.  The  tradition- 
ary account  of  the  Indians  of  Chajal  is,  that  no  white  man 
has  ever  reached  the  city;  that  the  inhabitants  speak  the 
Maya  language;  are  aware  that  a  race  of  strangers  has  con- 
quered the  whole  country  around,  and  murder  any  white 
man  who  attempts  to  enter  their  territory.  They  have  no 
coin  or  other  circulating  medium;  no  horses,  cattle,  mules, 
or  other  domestic  animals,  except  fowls,  and  the  cocks  they 
keep  under  ground  to  prevent  their  crowing  being  heard.* 

Mr.  Stephens  then  adds: 

One  look  at  that  city  is  worth  ten  years  of  an  every-day 
life.  If  he  is  right,  a  place  is  left  where  Indians  and  an 
Indian  city  exist  as  Cortez  and  Alvarado  found  them. 
There  are  living  men  who  can  solve  the  mystery  that  hanga 
over  the  ruined  cities  of  America;  perhaps,  who  can  go  to 
Copan  and  Palenque  and  read  the  inscriiDtions  on  their  mon- 
uments. 

The  moon,  long  past  the  meridian,  was  sinking 
slowly  to  her  western  goal,  whilst  the  east  was  already 
beginning  to  blush  and  redden  with  the  dawn.  Before 
us  rose  high  and  clear  three  distinct  mountain  peaks, 
covered  with  a  mantle  of  snow.  I  began  to  tremble 
with  cold.  But  our  pace  did  not  slacken,  nor  our  alti- 
tude diminish.  On  the  contrary,  we  began  to  rise 
gradually,  until  we  found  ourselves  nearly  upon  a  level 
with  the  three  peaks.  Selecting  an  opening  or  gap 
betwixt  the  two  westernmost,  we  glided  through  like 
the  wind.  I  shivered  and  my  teeth  chattered  as  we 
skimmed  along  those  everlasting  snows.  Here,  thought 
I,  the  condor  builds  his  nest  in  summer,  and  the  ava- 

*  Ibid.   Page  195. 


The  Aztec  Pinncess.  135 

lanclies  find  a  liome.  The  eagle's  wing  has  not  strength 
enough  to  battle  with  this  thin  and  freezing  atmos- 
phere, and  no  living  thing  but  "the  proud  bird,  the 
condor  of  the  Andes,"  ever  scaled  these  hoary  summits. 
But  our  descent  had  already  commenced.  Gradually, 
as  the  morning  broke,  the  region  of  ice  and  snow  was 
left  behind  us,  and  just  as  the  first  ray  of  the  rising 
sun  shot  over  the  peaks  we  had  but  a  moment  before 
surmounted,  I  beheld,  glittering  in  the  dim  and  shadowy 
distance,  the  white  walls  of  a  magnificent  city.  An 
exclamation  of  surprise  and  pleasure  involuntarily 
escaped  my  lips;  but  one  glance  at  my  companion 
checked  all  further  utterance.  She  raised  her  rounded 
forefinger  to  her  lip,  and  made  a  gesture,  whose  purport 
I  well  understood. 

We  swept  over  forests  and  cornfields  and  vineyards, 
the  city  growing  upon  the  vision  every  moment,  and 
rising  like  the  Mexican  capital,  when  first  beheld  by 
Europeans  from  the  bosom  of  a  magnificent  lake. 
Finally,  we  found  ourselves  immediately  above  it,  and 
almost  at  the  same  moment,  began  to  descend.  In  a 
few  seconds  I  stood  alone,  in  a  large  open  space,  sur- 
rounded upon  all  sides  by  lofty  stone  edifices,  erected 
upon  huge  pyramidal  structures,  that  resembled  the 
forest-covered  mounds  at  Palenque.  The  day  had  fully 
dawned,  but  I  observed  no  inhabitants.  Presently  a 
single  individual  appeared  upon  one  of  the  towers  near 
me,  and  gave  a  loud,  shrill  whistle,  such  as  we  some- 
times hear  in  crowded  theatres.  In  an  instant  it  was 
echoed  and  re-echoed  a  thousand  times,  upon  every 
side,  and  immediately  the  immense  city  seemed  to  be 
awake,  as  if  by  magic.  They  poured  by  thousands 
into  the  open  square,  where  I  stood  petrified  with 
astonishment.     Before  me,  like  a  vision  of  midnight, 


136  Caxton  s  Book. 

marched  b}^  in  almost  countless  throngs,  battalion  on 
battalion  of  a  race  of  men  deemed  and  recorded  ex- 
tinct by  the  wisest  historians. 

They  presented  the  most  picturesque  appearance 
imaginable,  dressed  apparently  in  holiday  attire,  and 
keeping  step  to  a  low  air,  performed  on  instruments 
emitting  a  dull,  confused  sound,  that  seldom  rose  so  as 
to  be  heard  at  any  great  distance. 

They  continued  promenading  the  square,  until  the 
first  level  ray  of  sunshine  fell  upon  the  great  Teocallis 
— as  it  was  designated  by  the  Spaniards — then  with 
unanimous  action  they  fell  upon  their  faces,  striking 
their  foreheads  three  times  upon  the  mosaic  pavement. 
Just  as  they  rose  to  their  feet,  I  observed  four  persons, 
most  gorgeously  dressed,  descending  the  steps  of  the 
Temple,  bearing  a  palanquin,  in  which  sat  a  single  indi- 
vidual. My  attention  was  at  once  arrested  by  her 
appearance,  for  she  was  a  woman.  She  was  arrayed  in 
a  'panache,  or  head-dress,  made  entirely  of  the  plumage 
of  the  Quezale,  the  voyal  bird  of  Quiche.  It  was  by  far 
the  most  tasteful  and  becoming  ornament  to  the  head  I 
ever  beheld,  besides  being  the  most  magnificent.  It  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  graceful  movement  of  those 
waving  plumes,  as  they  were  stirred  by  the  slightest 
inclination  of  the  head,  or  the  softest  aspiration  of  the 
breeze.  But  the  efiect  was  greatly  heightened  by  the 
constant  change  of  color  which  they  underwent.  Blue 
and  crimson,  and  orange  and  gold,  were  so  blended  that 
the  eye  was  equally  dazzled  and  delighted.  But  the 
utmost  astonishment  pervaded  me,  when,  upon  closely 
scrutinizing  her  features,  I  thought  I  recognized  the 
beautiful  face  of  the  Aztec  Princess.  Little  leisure, 
however,  was  afforded  me  for  this  purpose,  for  no  sooner 
had  her  subjects,  the  assembled  thousands,  bowed  with 


The  Aztec  Princess.  137 

'deferential  respect  to  their  sovereign,  than  a  company 
of  drilled  guards  marched  up  to  where  I  stood,  and 
unresistingly  made  me  prisoner. 

It  is  useless  to  attempt  a  full  description  of  the  im- 
posing ceremony  I  had  witnessed,  or  to  portray  the 
appearance  of  those  who  took  the  most  prominent  parts. 
Their  costume  corresponded  precisely  with  that  of  the 
figures  in  has-relief  on  the  sculptured  monuments  at 
Palenque.  Each  wore  a  gorgeous  head-dress,  generally 
of  feathers,  carried  an  instrument  decorated  with  rib- 
bons, feathers  and  skins,  which  appeared  to  be  a  war- 
club,  and  wore  huge  sashes  of  yellow,  green,  or  crimson 
cotton  cloth,  knotted  before  and  behind,  and  falling  in 
graceful  folds  almost  to  the  ground. 

Hitherto  not  a  word  had  been  spoken.  The  ceremony 
I  had  witnessed  was  a  religious  one,  and  was  at  once 
interpreted  by  me  to  be  the  worship  of  the  sun.  I 
remembered  well  that  the  ancient  Peruvians  were  heliol- 
aters,  and  my  imagination  had  been  dazzled  when  but 
a  child  by  the  gorgeous  description  given  by  the  his- 
torian Robertson,  of  the  great  Temple  of  the  Sun  at 
Cuzco.  There  the  Incas  had  worshiped  the  God  of 
Dciy  from  the  period  when  Mauco  Capac  came  from  the 
distant  Island  of  Oello,  and  taught  the  native  Indians 
the  rudiments  of  civilization,  until  the  life  of  the  last 
•scion  of  roj^al  blood  was  sacrificed  to  the  perfidy  of  the 
-Spanish  invaders.  These  historical  facts  had  long  been 
familiar  to  my  mind;  but  I  did  not  recollect  any  facts 
^oiiig  to  show  that  the  ancient  Aztecs  were  likewise 
heliolaters;  but  further  doubt  was  now  impossible. 

In  perfect  silence  I  was  hurried  up  the  stone  steps  of 
the  great  Teocallis,  toward  the  palace  erected  upon  its 
summit,  into  whose  broad  and  lofty  corridors  we  soon 
entered.      These  we  traversed  in    several   directions, 


138  Caxton  s  Book. 

leaving  the  more  outward  and  gradually  approaching' 
the  heart  or  central  apartments. 

Finally,  I  was  ushered  into  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cently decorated  audience-chambers  tliat  the  eye  of  man 
ever  beheld. 

We  were  surrounded  by  immense  tablets  of  has-reliefs 
sculptured  in  white  and  black  marble,  and  presenting, 
evidently,  a  connected  history  of  the  ancient  heroes  of 
the  race.  Beside  each  tablet  triple  rows  of  hiero- 
glyphics were  carved  in  the  solid  stone,  unquestionably 
giving  in  detail  the  history  of  the  hero  or  chief  whose 
likeness  stood  near  them.  Many  of  these  appeared  to 
be  females,  but,  judging  from  the  sceptre  each  carried, 
I  was  pursuaded  that  the  old  Salique  law  of  France  and 
other  European  nations  never  was  acknowledged  by  the 
aboriginal  Americans. 

The  roof  was  high,  and  decorated  with  the  plumaga 
of  the  Quezale  and  other  tropical  birds,  whilst  a  throne 
was  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  glittering^ 
in  gold  and  silver  ornaments,  hung  about  with  beautiful 
shells,  and  lined  with  the  skins  of  the  native  leopard,, 
prepared  in  the  most  exquisite  style. 

Seated  upon  a  throne,  I  recognized  the  princess  whose- 
morning  devotions  I  had  just  witnessed.  At  a  gesture, 
I  was  carried  up  close  to  the  foot  of  the  throne. 

After  closely  inspecting  her  features,  I  satisfied  myself 
that  she  was  not  the  companion  of  my  mysterious 
journey,  being  several  years  older  in  appearance,  and 
of  a  darker  complexion.  Still,  there  was  a  very  strik- 
ing resemblance  between  them,  and  it  was  evident  that 
they  not  only  belonged  to  the  same  race,  but  to  the 
same  family.  I  looked  up  at  her  with  great  respect, 
anticipating  some  encouraging  word  or  sign.  But 
instead  of  speaking,  she  commenced  a  low,  melodious. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  193) 

whistle,  eying  me  intently  during  the  whole  time. 
Ceasing,  she  evidently  anticipated  some  reply  on  my 
part,  and  I  at  once  accosted  her  in  the  following  terms : 

"Most  beautiful  Princess,  lam  not  voluntarily  an  in- 
vader of  your  realm.  I  was  transported  hither  in  a 
manner  as  mysterious  as  it  was  unexpected.  Teach  me 
bat  to  read  these  hieroglyphics,  and  I  will  quit  your 
territories  forever." 

A  smile  flitted  across  the  features  of  the  Princess  as  I 
uttered  these  words;  and  she  gave  an  order,  by  a  sharp 
whistle,  to  an  officer  that  stood  near,  who  immediately 
disappeared.  In  a  few  moments,  he  returned,  bringing 
with  him  a  native  dressed  very  coarsely  in  white  cotton 
cloth,  and  who  carried  an  empty  jar,  or  water  tank,  upon 
his  head.  He  was  evidently  a  laborer,  and,  judging 
from  the  low  obeisances  he  constantly  made,  much  to- 
the  amusement  of  the  courtiers  standing  around,  I  am 
satisfied  that  he  never  before  in  his  whole  life  had  been 
admitted  to  the  presence  of  his  sovereign. 

Making  a  gesture  to  the  officer  who  had  introduced 
him,  he  spoke  a  few  low  words  to  the  native,  who  im- 
mediately turned  toward  me,  and  uttered,  slowly  and 
distinctly,  the  following  sentence: 

"  Ix-itl  hua-atl  zi-petl  poppicobatl." 

I  shook  my  head  desj)airingly.  Several  other  at- 
tempts to  communicate  with  me  were  made,  both  \yj 
the  Princess  and  the  interpreter,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
I  could  neither  understand  the  melodies  nor  the  jargon. 
But  I  noticed  throughout  all  these  proceedings  that  there 
seemed  to  be  two  entirely  distinct  modes  of  expression; 
the  first  by  whistling,  and  the  second  by  utterance. 
The  idea  at  once  flashed  across  my  mind,  that  there 
were  two  languages  used  in  the  country — one  sacred  ta 
the  blood  royal  and  the  nobility,  and  the  other  used  by 


140  Caxton  s  Book. 

the  common  people.  Impressed  with  this  thought,  I 
immediately  set  about  verifying  it  by  experiment. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  ingenious  methods  I 
devised  to  ascertain  this  fact.  It  is  sufficient  for  the 
present  purposes  of  this  narrative  to  state,  that,  during 
the  day,  I  was  abundantly  satisfied  with  the  truth  of  my 
surmise;  and  that,  before  night,  I  learned  another  fact, 
equally  important,  that  the  hieroglyphics  were  written 
in  the  royal  tongue,  and  could  be  read  only  by  those 
x3onnected  by  ties  of  blood  with  the  reigning  family. 

There  was  at  first  something  ludicrous  in  the  idea  of 
communicating  thought  by  sound  emitted  in  the  Avay  in- 
dicated above.  In  my  wildest  dreams,  the  notion  of 
such  a  thing  being  possible  had  never  occurred  to  my 
imagination.  And  when  the  naked  fact  was  now  de- 
monstrated to  me  every  moment,  I  could  scarcely  credit 
my  senses.  Still,  when  I  reflected  that  night  upon  it, 
after  I  retired  to  rest,  the  system  did  not  appear  unnat- 
ural, nor  even  improbable.  Birds,  I  knew,  made  use  of 
the  same  musical  tongue;  and  when  but  a  boy,  on  the 
shores  of  the  distant  Albemarle,  I  had  often  listened, 
till  long  after  midnight,  to  the  wonderful  loquacity  of 
the  common  mockiug-bird,  as  she  poured  forth  her 
summer  strains.  Who  has  not  heard  the  turtle  dove 
wooing  her  mate  in  tones  that  were  only  not  human, 
because  they  were  more  sadly  beautiful  ?  Many  a  be- 
lated traveler  has  placed  his  hand  upon  his  sword-hilt, 
and  looked  suspiciously  behind  him,  as  the  deep  bass 
note  of  the  owl  has  startled  the  dewy  air.  The  cock's 
crow  has  become  a  synonym  for  a  psean  of  triumph. 

Remembering  all  these  varieties  in  sound  that  the  air 
is  capable  of,  when  cut,  as  it  were,  by  whistling,  I  no 
longer  doubted  that  a  language  could  easily  be  cou=- 
structed  by  analyzing  the  several  tones  and  giving  value 
to  their  different  modulations. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  141 

The  ludicrousness  of  the  idea  soon  gave  place  to 
admiration,  and  before  I  had  been  domiciliated  in  the 
palace  of  the  Princess  a  month,  I  had  become  perfectly- 
infatuated  with  her  native  language,  and  regarded  it  as 
the  most  beautiful  and  expressive  ever  spoken  by  man. 
And  now,  after  several  years  have  elapsed  since  its  melo- 
dious accents  have  fallen  upon  my  ears,  I  hesitate  not  to 
assert  that  for  richness  and  variety  of  tone,  for  force  and- 
depth  of  expression,  for  harmony  and  sweetuess — in- 
short,  for  all  those  characteristics  that  give  beauty  and 
strength  to  spoken  thought — the  royal  tongue  of  the 
aboriginal  Americans  is  without  a  rival. 

For  many  days  after  my  mysterious  appearance  in 
the  midst  of  the  great  city  I  have  described,  my  fate 
still  hung  in  the  balance.  I  was  examined  and  re-ex- 
amined a  hundred  times  as  to  the  mode  of  my 
entrance  into  the  valley;  but  I  always  persisted  in 
making  the  same  gestures,  and  pointed  to  the  sky  as 
the  region  whence  I  had  descended.  The  guards  sta- 
tioned at  every  avenue  of  entrance  and  exit  were 
summoned  to  the  capital,  and  questioned  closely  as  to 
the  probability  of  my  having  passed  them  unawares;: 
but  they  fully  exculpated  themselves  from  all  blame, 
and  were  restored  to  their  forfeited  posts. 

Gradually  the  excitement  in  the  city  subsided,  and 
one  by  one  the  great  nobles  were  won  over  to  credit  the 
story  of  my  celestial  arrival  in  their  midst,  and  I 
believed  the  great  object  of  my  existence  in  a  fair  way 
to  be  accomplished. 

Every  facility  was  afforded  me  to  learn  the  royal 
tongue,  and  after  a  little  more  than  a  year's  residence- 
in  the  palace,  I  spoke  it  with  considerable  fluency  and 
accuracy. 

But  all  my  efforts  hitherto  were  vain  to  obtain  a  key 


142  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

to  the  hieroglj'pliics.  Not  only  was  the  offense  capital 
to  teach  their  alphabet  to  a  stranger,  but  equally  so  to 
natives  themselves,  unconnected  with  the  blood  royal. 
"With  all  my  ingenuity  and  industry,  I  had  not  advanced 
a  single  letter. 

One  night,  as  I  lay  tossing  restlessly  upon  my  bed, 
revolving  this  insoluble  enigma  in  my  mind,  one  of  the 
mosaic  paving-stones  was  suddenly  lifted  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  the  figure  of  a  young  man  with 
a  lighted  taper  in  his  hand  stood  before  me. 

Raising  my  head  hastily  from  the  pillow,  I  almost 
sank  back  with  astonishment  when  I  recognized  in  the 
form  and  features  of  my  midnight  visitor,  Pio  the  Carib 
boy. 

CHAPTER    V. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy." 

— Shaespeake. 

I  SPRANG  to  my  feet  with  all  the  eagerness  of  joy,  and 
was  about  to  rush  into  the  arms  of  Pio,  when  he  sud- 
denly checked  my  enthusiasm  by  extinguishing  the 
light.  I  stood  still  and  erect,  like  one  petrified  into 
stone.  That  moment  I  felt  a  hand  upon  my  arm,  then 
around  my  waist,  and  ere  I  could  collect  my  thoughts, 
was  distinctly  lifted  from  the  ground.  But  I  was 
carried  only  a  few  steps.  On  touching  the  floor  with 
m}'  feet,  I  was  planted  firmly,  and  the  arms  of  my  com- 
panion were  tightly  drawn  around  my  own  so  as  to 
prevent  me  from  raising  them.  The  next  instant,  and 
the  stone  upon  which  we  stood  suddenly  slid  from  its 
position,  and  gradually  sank  perpendicularly, — we  still 
Tetaining  our  position  upon  it. 

Our  descent  was  not  rapid,  nor  did  I  deem  it  very 


The  Aztec  Princess.  143 

secure;  for  the  trap-door  trembled  under  us,  and  more 
than  once  seemed  to  touch  the  shaft  into  which  we  were 
descending.  A  few  moments  more  and  we  landed 
securely  upon  a  solid  pavement.  My  companion  then 
■disengaged  his  hold,  and  stepping  off  a  few  paces,  pro- 
nounced the  words  "  We  are  here!'"  in  the  royal  tongue, 
and  immediately  a  panel  slid  from  the  side  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  a  long  passage-way,  lighted  at  the  further 
end  by  a  single  candle,  displayed  itself  to  view.  Into 
that  passage  we  at  once  entered,  and  without  exchang- 
ing a  single  word,  walked  rapidly  toward  the  light. 

The  light  stood  upon  a  stone  stand  about  four  feet 
high,  at  the  intersection  of  these  passages.  We  took  the 
one  to  the  left,  and  advanced  twenty  or  thirty  yards, 
^hen  Pio  halted.  On  coming  up  to  him,  he  placed  his 
mouth  close  to  the  wall,  and  exclaimed  as  before,  "We 
iire  here."  A  huge  block  of  granite  swung  inward, 
and  we  entered  a  small  but  well-lighted  apartment, 
around  which  were  hanging  several  costly  and  magnifi- 
<;ent  suits  of  Palenquin  costume. 

Hastily  seizing  two  of  them,  Pio  commenced  arraying 
himself  in  one,  and  requested  me  by  a  gesture  to  don 
the  other.  With  a  little  assistance,  I  soon  found  myself 
■decked  from  head  to  foot  in  a  complete  suit  of  regal 
robes — panache,  sash,  and  sandals  inclusive. 

When  all  was  completed,  Pio,  for  the  first  time,  ad- 
dressed me  as  follows:  "Young  stranger,  whoever  you 
may  be,  or  to  whatever  nation  you  may  belong,  matters 
but  little  to  me.  The  attendant  guardian  spirit  of  our 
race  and  country  has  conducted  you  hither,  in  the  most 
mysterious  manner,  and  now  commands  me  to  have  you 
instructed  in  the  most  sacred  lore  of  the  Aztecs.  Your 
long  residence  in  this  palace  has  fully  convinced  you  of 
the  danger  to  which  we  are  both  exposed;  I  in  reveal- 


144  Caxton  s  Book. 

ing  and  you  in  acquiring  tlie  key  to  the  interpretation 
of  the  historical  records  of  my  country.  I  need  not 
assure  you  tliat  our  lives  are  both  forfeited,  should  the 
slightest  suspicion  be  aroused  in  the  breasts  of  the 
Princess  or  the  nobility. 

"You  are  now  dressed  in  the  appropriate  costume  of 
a  student  of  our  literature,  and  must  attend  me  nightly 
at  the  gathering  of  the  Queen's  kindred  to  be  instructed 
in  the  art.  Express  no  surprise  at  anything  you  see  or 
hear;  keep  your  face  concealed  as  much  as  possible^ 
fear  nothing,  and  follow  me." 

At  a  preconcerted  signal  given  by  Pio,  a  door  flew 
open  and  we  entered  the  vestibule  of  a  large  and  bril- 
liantly illuminated  chamber. 

As  soon  as  we  passed  the  entrance  I  saw  before  me^ 
not  less  than  two  hundred  young  persons  of  both  sexeSy^ 
habited  in  the  peculiar  garb  of  students,  like  our  own. 
We  advanced  slowly  and  noiselessly,  until  we  reached 
two  vacant  places,  prepared  evidently  beforehand  for 
us.  Our  entrance  was  not  noticed  by  the  classes,  nor 
by  those  whom  I  afterwards  recognized  as  teachers. 
All  seemed  intent  upon  the  problem  before  them,  and 
evinced  no  curiosity  to  observe  the  new  comers.  My 
own  curiosity  at  this  moment  was  intense,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  prudent  cautious  constantly  given  me 
by  Pio,  by  toucliing  my  robes  or  my  feet,  an  exposure 
most  probably  would  have  occurred  the  first  night  of  my 
initiation,  and  the  narrative  of  these  adventures  never 
been  written. 

My  presence  of  mind,  however,  soon  came  to  my 
assistance,  and  before  the  evening  was  over,  I  had,  by 
shrewdly  noticing  the  conduct  of  others,  shaped  my  own 
into  perfect  conformity  with  theirs,  and  rendered  detec- 
tion next  to  impossible. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  145 

It  now  becomes  necessary  to  digress  a  moment  from 
the  thread  of  my  story,  and  give  an  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  the  persons  I  beheld  around  me,  the  chamber 
in  which  we  were  gathered,  and  the  peculiar  mode  of 
instruction  pursued  by  the  sages. 

The  scholars  were  mostly  young  men  and  women, 
averaging  in  age  about  twenty  years.  They  all  wore  the 
emblem  of  royalty,  which  I  at  once  recognized  in  the 
panache  of  Quezale  plumes  that  graced  their  heads. 
They  stood  in  semi-circular  rows,  the  platform  rising  as 
they  receded  from  the  staging  in  front,  like  seats  in  an 
amphitheatre.  Upon  the  stage  were  seated  five  indi- 
viduals— two  of  the  male,  and  three  of  the  female  sex. 
An  old  man  was  standing  up,  near  the  edge  of  the  stage, 
holding  in  his  hands  two  very  cunningly-constructed 
instruments.  At  the  back  of  the  stage,  a  very  large, 
smooth  tablet  of  black  marble  was  inserted  in  the  wall, 
and  a  royal  personage  stood  near  it,  upon  one  side,  with 
a  common  piece  of  chalk  in  his  right  hand,  and  a  cotton 
napkin  in  the  left.  .  This  reminded  me  but  too  truthfully 
of  the  fourth  book  of  Euclid  and  Nassau  Hall;  and  I 
was  again  reminded  of  the  great  mathematician  before 
the  assembly  broke  up,  and  of  his  reply  to  that  King  of 
Sicily,  who  inquired  if  there  were  no  easy  way  of  ac- 
quiring mathematics.  ' '  None,  your  Highness, "  replied 
the  philosopher;  "there  is  no  royal  road  to  learning." 
Labor,  I  soon  found,  was  the  only  price,  even  amongst 
the  Aztecs,  at  which  knowledge  could  be  bought.  Each 
student  was  furnished  with  the  same  species  of  instru- 
ments which  the  old  man  before-mentioned  held  in  his 
hands. 

The  one  held  in  the  left  hand  resembled  a  white  por- 
celain slate,  only  being  much  larger  than  those  in  com- 
mon use.  It  was  nearly  twenty  inches  square,  and  was 
10 


146  CaxtoiL  s  Book. 

divided  by  mathematical  Hues  into  tliirtv-six  compart- 
ments. It  was  covered  over  with  a  thin  crystal,  resem- 
bling glass,  which  is  found  in  great  quantities  in  the 
neighboring  mountains,  and  is  perfectly  transparent. 
The  crystal  was  raised  about  the  one  eighth  of  an  inch 
from  the  surface  of  the  slate,  and  allowed  a  very  fine 
species  of  black  sand  to  move  at  will  between  them. 
The  instrument  carried  in  the  right  hand  resembled 
the  bow  of  a  common  violin,  more  than  anything  else. 
The  outer  edge  was  constructed  of  a  beautiful  yellow 
wood,  polished,  and  bent  into  the  arc  of  a  quarter 
circle;  whilst  a  mass  of  small  cords,  made  of  the  native 
hemp,  united  the  two  ends. 

The  method  of  using  the  bow  was  this:   The  slate 
was  shaken  violently  once  or  twice,  so  as  to  distribute 
the  black  sand  equally  over  the  white  surface,  and  then 
the  bow  was  drawn  perpendicularly  down  the  edge  of 
the  slate,  very  rapidly,  so  as  to  produce  a  quick  whist- 
ling sound.     The   effect  produced   upon  the  grains  of 
sand  was  truly  wonderful  to  the  uninitiated  in  the  laws 
of  acoustics.     They  arranged  themselves  into  peculiar 
figures,  sometimes  in  the  form  of  a  semicircle,  some- 
times into  that   of  a  spiral,  sometimes  into  a  perfect 
circle,  or  a  cone,  or  a  rhomboid,  or  an  oval,  dependent 
entirely  upon  two   things:  first,  the  place  where  the 
slate  was  held  by  the  left  hand;  and  second,  the  point 
where  the   bow  was   drawn  across  the  edge.     As  the 
slate  was  subdivided  into  thirty-six  compartments,  by 
either  one  of  which  it  could  be  held,  and  as  there  was  a 
corresponding  point,   across  which  the  bow  could  be 
drawn,   there  were  seventy-two  primitive  sounds   that 
might  be  produced  by  means  of  this  simple  contrivance. 
Each  of  these  sounds  inherently  and  necessarily  pro- 
duced a  different  figure  upon  the  slate,  and  there  were 


The  Aztec  Princess,  147 

consequently  just  seventy-two  initial  letters  in  the  Aztec 
alphabet. 

The  mode  of  instruction  was  extremely  simple.  A 
word  was  pronounced  by  the  aged  teacher  at  the  front 
of  the  stage,  written  upon  his  slate,  exhibited  to  the 
scholar  at  the  black  tablet,  and  by  him  copied  upon  it. 
The  whole  class  then  drew  down  their  bows,  so  as  to 
produce  the  proper  sound,  and  the  word  itself,  or  its 
initial  letter,  was  immediately  formed  upon  the  slate. 

After  the  seventy-two  primitive  letters  or  sounds  had 
"been  learned,  the  next  step  was  the  art  of  combining 
them,  so  as  not  only  to  produce  single  words,  but  very 
often  whole  sentences.  Thus  the  first  hieroglyphic 
carved  upon  the  tablet,  on  the  back  wall  of  the  altar, 
in  Casa  No.  3  (forming  the  frontispiece  of  the  second 
volume  of  Stephens's  Travels  in  Central  America),  ex- 
presses, within  itself,  the  name,  date  of  birth,  place  of 
nativity,  and  parentage,  of  Xixencotl,  the  first  king  of 
the  twenty-third  dynasty  of  the  Aztecs. 

The  hieroglyphics  of  the  Aztecs  are  all  of  them  both 
symbolical  and  phonetic.  Hence,  in  almost  every  one 
we  observe,  first,  the  primitive  sound  or  initial  letter, 
and  its  various  combinations;  and,  secondly,  some  sym- 
bolic drawing,  as  a  human  face,  for  instance,  or  an 
eagle's  bill,  or  a  fish,  denoting  some  peculiar  character- 
istic of  the  person  or  thing  delineated. 

But  to  return  to  the  Hall  of  Students.  The  men  and 
women  on  the  stage  were  placed  there  as  critics  upon 
the  pronunciation  of  each  articulate  sound.  They  were 
selected  from  the  wisest  men  and  best  elocutionists  in 
the  kingdom,  and  never  failed  to  detect  the  slightest 
error  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  tutor. 

The  royal  tongue  of  the  Aztecs  is  the  only  one  now  in 
existence  that  is  based  upon  natural  philosophy  and  the 


148  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

laws  of  sound.  It  appeals  both  to  the  eye  and  ear  of 
the  speaker,  and  thus  the  nicest  shades  of  thought  maj 
be  clearly  expressed.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  stilted 
language  amongst  them,  and  logomachy  is  unknown. 

And  here  I  may  be  permitted  to  observe  that  a  wider 
field  for  research  and  discovery  lies  open  in  the  domain 
of  sound  than  in  any  other  region  of  science.  The  laws 
of  harmony,  even,  are  but  imperfectly  understood,  and 
the  most  accomplished  musicians  are  mere  tyros  in  the 
great  science  of  acoustics.  There  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  there  is  an  intimate  but  yet  undiscovered 
link  between  number,  light,  and  sound,  whose  solution 
will  astonish  and  enlighten  the  generations  that  are  tO' 
succeed  our  own.  When  God  spake  the  loorlds  into  being, 
the  globular  form  they  assumed  tvas  not  accidental,  nor  ar- 
bitrary, but  depended  essentially  upon  the  tone  of  the  great 
Architect,  and  the  medium  in  which  it  resounded. 

Let  the  natural  philosophers  of  the  rising  generation 
direct  their  especial  attention  toward  the  fields  I  have 
indicated,  and  the  rewards  awaiting  their  investigations 
will  confer  upon  them  immortality  of  fame. 

There  is  a  reason  why  the  musical  scale  should  noi 
mount  in  whole  tones  up  to  the  octave ;  why  the  mind 
grasps  decimals  easier  than  vulgar  fractions,  and  why,. 
by  the  laws  of  light,  the  blood-red  tint  should  be  heav- 
ier than  the  violet.  Let  Nature,  in  these  departments, 
be  studied  with  the  same  care  that  Cuvier  explored  the 
organization  of  insects,  that  Liebig  deduced  the  prop- 
erty of  acids,  and  that  Leverier  computed  the  orbit  of 
that  unseen  world  which  his  genius  has  half  created, 
and  all  the  wonderful  and  beautiful  secrets  now  on  the 
eve  of  bursting  into  being  from  the  dark  domain  of 
sound,  color,  and  shape,  will  at  once  march  forth  into 
view,  and  take  their  destined  places  in  the  ranks  of 
human  knowledge. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  149 

Then  the  science  of  computation  will  be  intuitive,  as 
it  was  in  the  mind  of  Zerah  Colburn ;  the  art  of  music 
creative,  as  in  the  plastic  voices  of  Jehovah ;  and  the 
great  principles  of  light  and  shape  and  color  divine, 
as  in  the  genius  of  Swedenborg  and  the  imagination  of 
Milton. 

I  have  now  completed  the  outline  of  the  sketch, 
which  in  the  foregoing  pages  I  proposed  to  lay  before 
the  world. 

The  peculiar  circumstances  which  led  me  to  explore 
the  remains  of  the  aboriginal  Americans,  the  adven- 
tures attending  me  in  carrying  out  that  design,  the  mode 
of  my  introduction  into  the  Living  City,  spoken  of  by 
Stephens,  and  believed  in  by  so  many  thousands  of 
enlightened  men,  and  above  all,  the  wonderful  and 
almost  incredible  character  of  the  people  I  there  en- 
countered, together  with  a  rapid  review  of  their  lan- 
guage and  literature,  have  been  briefly  but  faithfully 
presented  to  the  public. 

It  but  remains  for  me  now  to  present  my  readers 
with  a  few  specimens  of  Aztec  literature,  translated 
from  the  hieroglyphics  now  mouldering  amid  the  forests 
of  Chiapa;  to  narrate  the  history  of  my  escape  from 
the  Living  City  of  the  aborigines;  to  bespeak  a  friendly 
word  for  the  forthcoming  history  of  one  of  the  earliest, 
most  beautiful,  and  unfortunate  of  the  Aztec  queens, 
copied  verbatim  from  the  annals  of  her  race,  and  to  bid 
them  one  and  all,  for  the  present,  a  respectful  adieu. 

Before  copying  from  the  blurred  and  water-soaked 
manuscript  before  me,  a  single  extract  from  the  literary 
remains  of  the  monumental  race  amongst  whom  I  have 
spent  three  years  and  a  half  of  my  early  manhood,  it 
may  not  be  deemed  improper  to  remark  that  a  large 
work  upon  this  subject  is  now  in  course  of  publication, 


150  Caxton  s  Book. 

containing  the  minutest  details  of  the  domestic  life^ 
public  institutions,  language,  and  laws  of  that  interest- 
ing people. 

The  extracts  I  present  to  the  reader  may  be  relied 
upon  as  exactly  correct,  since  they  are  taken  from  the 
memoranda  made  upon  the  spot. 

Directly  in  front  of  the  throne,  in  the  great  audience- 
chamber  described  in  the  preceding  chapter,  and  writ- 
ten in  the  most  beautiful  hieroglyphi  extant,  I  found 
the  following  account  of  the  origin  of  the  land : 

The  Great  Spirit,  whose  emblem  is  the  sun,  held  the 
water-drops  out  of  which  the  world  was  made,  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand,  He  breathed  a  tone,  and  they  rounded  into 
the  great  globe,  and  started  forth  on  the  errand  of  counting 
uj)  the  years. 

Nothing  existed  but  water  and  the  great  fishes  of  the  sea. 
One  eternity  passed.  The  Great  Spirit  sent  a  solid  star, 
round  and  beautiful,  but  dead  and  no  longer  burning,  and 
plunged  it  into  the  depths  of  the  oceans.  Then  the  winds 
were  born,  and  the  rains  began  to  fall.  The  animals  next 
sprang  into  existence.  They  came  up  from  the  star-dust 
like  wheat  and  maize.  The  round  star  floated  ujDon  the 
waters,  and  became  the  dry  land;  and  the  land  was  high, 
and  its  edges  steep.  It  was  circular,  like  a  plate,  and  all 
connected  together. 

The  marriage  of  the  land  and  the  sea  produced  man,  but 
his  spirit  came  from  the  beams  of  the  sun. 

Another  eternity  passed  away,  and  the  earth  became  too 
full  of  peojDle.  They  were  all  white,  because  the  star  fell 
into  the  cold  seas,  and  the  sun  could  not  darken  their  com- 
plexions. 

Then  the  sea  bubbled  up  in  the  middle  of  the  land,  and 
the  country  of  the  Aztecs  floated  off  to  the  west.  Wherever 
the  star  cracked  open,  there  the  waters  rose  up  and  made 
the  deep  sea. 

When  the  east  and  the  west  come  together  again,  they 
will  fit  like  a  garment  that  has  been  torn. 


t3' 


Then  followed  a  rough  outline  of  the  western  coasts 
of  Europe  and  Africa,  and  directly  opposite  the  coasts. 


The  Aztec  Princess.  151 

of  North  and  South  America.  The  projections  of  the 
one  exactly  fitted  the  indentations  of  the  other,  and 
gave  a  semblance  of  truth  and  reality  to  the  wild  dream 
of  the  Aztec  philosopher.  Let  the  geographer  compare 
them,  and  he  will  be  more  disposed  to  wonder  than  to 
sneer. 

I  have  not  space  enough  left  me  to  quote  any  further 
from  the  monumental  inscriptions,  but  if  the  reader  be 
curious  upon  this  subject,  I  recommend  to  his  attention 
the  publication  soon  to  come  out,  alluded  to  above. 

Some  unusual  event  certainly  had  occurred  in  the  city. 
The  great  plaza  in  front  of  the  palace  was  thronged  with 
a  countless  multitude  of  men  and  women,  all  clamoring 
for  a  sacrifice !  a  sacrifice ! 

Whilst  wondering  what  could  be  the  cause  of  this 
commotion,  I  was  suddenly  summoned  before  the  Prin- 
cess in  the  audience-chamber,  so  often  alluded  to 
before. 

My  surprise  was  great  when,  upon  presenting  myself 
before  her,  I  beheld,  pinioned  to  a  heavy  log  of  mahog- 
any, a  young  man,  evidently  of  European  descent. 

The  Princess  requested  me  to  interpret  for  her  to  the 
stranger,  and  the  following  colloquy  took  place.  The 
conversation  was  in  the  French  language. 

Q.  **  Who  are  you,  and  why  do  you  invade  my  do- 
minions ?" 

A.  "My  name  is  Armand  de  L'Oreille.  I  am  a 
Frenchman  by  birth.  I  was  sent  out  by  Lamartine,  in 
1848,  as  attache  to  the  expedition  of  M.  de  Bourbourg, 
whose  duties  were  to  explore  the  forests  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Palenque,  to  collate  the  language  of  the 
Central- American  Indians,  to  copy  the  inscriptions  on 
the  monuments,  and,  if  possible,  to  reach  the  Living 


152  Caxton  s  Book. 

City  mentioned  by  Waldeck,  Dupaix,  and  the  Ameri- 
can traveler  Stephens." 

Q.  "  But  why  are  you  alone  ?  Where  is  the  party  to 
which  you  belonged  ?  " 

A.  "  Most  of  them  returned  to  Paleuque,  after  wan- 
dering in  the  wilderness  a  few  days.  Five  only  deter- 
mined to  proceed;  of  that  number  I  am  the  only  sur- 
vivor." 

Here  the  interview  closed. 

The  council  and  the  queen  were  not  long  in  determin- 
ing the  fate  of  M.  de  L'Oreille.  It  was  unanimously 
resolved  that  he  should  surrender  his  life  as  a  forfeit  to 
his  temerity. 

The  next  morning,  at  sunrise,  was  fixed  for  his  death. 
He  was  to  be  sacrificed  upon  the  altar,  on  the  summit 
of  the  great  Teocallis — an  offering  to  Quehalcohuatl,  the 
first  great  prince  of  the  Aztecs.  I  at  once  determined 
to  save  the  life  of  the  stranger,  if  I  could  do  so,  even  at 
the  hazard  of  my  own.  But  fate  ordained  it  otherwise. 
I  retired  earlier  than  usual,  and  lay  silent  and  moody, 
revolving  on  the  best  means  to  accomplish  my  end. 

Midnight  at  length  arrived;  I  crept  stealthily  from 
my  bed,  and'  opened  the  door  of  my  chamber,  as  lightly 
as  sleep  creeps  over  the  eyelids  of  children.     But 

[Here  the  MS.  is  so  blotted,  and  saturated  with  salt- 
water, as  to  be  illegible  for  several  pages.  The  next 
legible  sentences  are  as  follows. — Ed.] 

Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  woods  looked  familiar  to 
me.  Proceeding  a  few  stej^s,  I  fell  into  the  trail  lead- 
ing toward  the  modern  village  of  Palenque,  and,  after 
an  hour's  walk,  I  halted  in  front  of  the  cahilda  of  the 
town. 

I  was  followed  by  a  motley  crowd  to  the  office  of  the 
Alcalde,  who  did  not  recognize  me,  dressed  as  I  was  in 


The  Aztec  Princess.  153 

skins,  and  half  loaded  down  with  rolls  of  MS.,  made 
from  the  bark  of  the  mulberry.  I  related  to  him  and 
M.  de  Bourbourg  my  adventures;  and  though  the  latter 
declared  he  had  lost  poor  Armand  and  his  five  com- 
panions, yet  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  of  them 
credited  a  single  word  of  my  story. 

Not  many  days  after  my  safe  arrival  at  Palenque,  I 
seized  a  favorable  opportunity  to  visit  the  ruins  of  Casa 
Grande.  I  readily  found  the  opening  to  the  subterra- 
nean passage  heretofore  described,  and  after  some  trou- 
blesome delays  at  the  various  landing-places,  I  finally 
Succeeded  in  reaching  the  very  spot  whence  I  had 
iiscended  on  that  eventful  night,  nearly  three  years 
before,  in  company  with  the  Aztec  Princess. 

After  exploring  many  of  the  mouldering  and  half- 
ruined  apartments  of  this  immense  palace,  I  accidently 
entered  a  small  room,  that  at  first  seemed  to  have  been 
a  place  of  sacrifice;  but,  upon  closer  inspection,  I  ascer- 
tained that,  like  many  of  those  in  the  "  Living  City," 
it  was  a  chapel  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  some  one  of 
the  princes  of  the  Aztec  race. 

In  order  to  interpret  the  inscriptions  with  greater 
facility,  I  lit  six  or  seven  candles,  and  placed  them  in 
the  best  positions  to  illuminate  the  hieroglyphics. 
Then  turning,  to  take  a  view  of  the  grand  tablet  in  the 
middle  of  the  inscription,  my  astonishment  was  inde- 
scribable, when  I  beheld  the  exact  features,  dress  and 
panache  of  the  Aztec  maiden,  carved  in  the  everlasting 
marble  before  me. 


VIII. 

THE  MOTHER'S  EPISTLE. 

O  WEET  daughter,  leave  thy  tasks  and  toys, 
^^     Throw  idle  thoughts  aside, 
And  hearken  to  a  mother's  voice. 

That  would  thy  footsteps  guide; 
Though  far  across  the  rolling  seas. 

Beyond  the  mountains  blue, 
She  sends  her  counsels  on  the  breeze, 

And  wafts  her  blessings  too. 

To  guard  thy  voyage  o'er  life's  wave. 

To  guide  thy  bark  aright. 
To  snatch  thee  from  an  early  grave. 

And  gild  thy  way  with  light, 
Thy  mother  calls  thee  to  her  side, 

And  takes  thee  on  her  knee, 
In  spite  of  oceans  that  divide, 

And  thus  addresses  thee : 


Learn  first  this  lesson  in  thy  youth. 

Which  time  cannot  destroy, 
To  love  and  speak  and  act  the  truth — 

'Tis  life's  most  holy  joy; 
Wert  thou  a  queen  upon  a  throne. 

Decked  in  each  royal  gem. 
This  little  jewel  would  alone 

Outshine  thy  diadem. 


/ 


The  Mother  s  Epistle.  155 

II. 
Next  learn  to  conquer,  as  tliey  rise, 

Each  wave  of  passion's  sea; 
Uncliecked,  'twill  sweep  the  vaulted  skies. 

And  vanquish  heaven  and  thee; 
Lashed  on  by  storms  within  thy  breast. 

These  billows  of  the  soul 
Will  wreck  thy  peace,  destroy  thy  rest, 

And  ruin  as  they  roll! 

m. 
But  conquered  passions  were  no  gain. 

Unless  where  once  they  grew 
There  falls  the  teardrop,  like  the  rain, 

And  gleams  the  morning  dew; 
Sow  flowers  within  thy  virgin  heart. 

That  spring  from  guileless  love; 
Extend  to  each  a  sister's  part. 

Take  lessons  of  the  dove. 

IV. 

But,  daughter,  empty  were  our  lives. 

And  useless  all  our  toils, 
If  that  within  us,  which  survives 

Life's  transient  battle-broils. 
Were  all  untaught  in  heavenly  lore, 

Unlearned  in  virtue's  ways, 
Ungifted  with  religion's  store. 

Unskilled  our  God  to  praise. 

V. 

Take  for  thy  guide  the  Bible  old, 

Consult  its  pages  fair 
Within  them  glitter  gems  and  gold, 

Repentance,  Faith,  and  Prayer; 
Make  these  companions  of  thy  soul; 

Where  e'er  thy  footsteps  roam, 
And  safely  shalt  thou  reach  thy  goal. 

In  heaven — the  anefel's  home! 


^o^ 


\ 


IX. 

LEGENDS  OF  LAKE  BIGLER. 

I. THE  HAUNTED  BOCK. 

A  GREAT  mauy  years  ago,  ere  the  first  white  man 
had  trodden  the  soil  of  the  American  continent, 
and  before  the  palaces  of  Uxmal  and  Palenque  were 
masses  of  shapeless  ruins — whilst  the  splendid  struct- 
ures, now  lining  the  banks  of  the  Gila  with  broken 
columns  and  fallen  domes  were  inhabited  by  a  nobler 
race  than  the  cowardly  Pimos  or  the  Ishmaelitish 
Apaches,  there  lived  and  flourished  on  opposite  shores 
of  Lake  Bigler  two  rival  nations,  disputing  with  each 
other  for  the  supremacy  of  this  inland  sea,  and  making 
perpetual  war  in  order  to  accomplish  the  object  of  their 
ambition. 

The  tribe  dwelling  upon  the  western  shore  was  called 
the  Ako-ni-tas,  whilst  those  inhabiting  what  is  now  the 
State  of  Nevada  were  known  by  the  name  of  Gra-so- 
po-itas.  Each  nation  was  subdivided  into  smaller 
principalities,  over  which  subordinate  sachems,  or 
■chiefs,  presided.  In  number,  physical  appearance, 
and  advance  in  the  arts  of  civilization,  both  very  much 
resembled,  and  neither  could  be  said  to  have  decidedly 
the  pre-eminence. 

At  the  time  my  story  commences,  Wan-ta-tay-to  was 
principal  chief  or  king  of  the  Ako-ni-tas,  or,  as  they 
were  sometimes  designated,  0-kak-o-uitas,  whilst  Ehu- 
tog-au-di  presided   over  the    destinies  of   the    Gra-so- 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  157 

po-itas.  The  language  spoken  by  these  tribes  were 
dialects  of  the  same  original  tongue,  and  could  be 
easily  understood  the  one  by  the  other.  Continued 
intercourse,  even  when  at  war,  had  assimilated  their 
customs,  laws  and  religion  to  such  a  degree  that  it 
often  became  a  matter  of  grave  doubt  as  to  which  tribe 
occasional  deserters  belonged.  Intermarriage  between 
the  tribes  was  strictly  forbidden,  and  punished  with 
death  in  all  cases,  no  matter  what  might  be  the  rank, 
power  or  wealth  of  the  violators  of  the  law. 

A.t  this  era  the  surface  of  the  lake  was  about  sixty 
feet  higher  than  at  the  present  time.  Constant  evapo- 
ration, or  perhaps  the  wearing  channel  of  the  Truckee, 
has  contributed  to  lower  the  level  of  the  water,  and 
the  same  causes  still  continue  in  operation,  as  is  clearly 
perceptible  by  the  watermarks  of  previous  years. 
Thousands  of  splendid  canoes  everywhere  dotted  its 
surface;  some  of  them  engaged  in  the  peaceful  avoca- 
tions of  fishing  and  hunting,  whilst  the  large  majority 
were  manned  and  armed  for  immediate  and  deadly 
hostilities. 

The  year  preceding  that  in  which  the  events  occurred 
herein  related,  had  been  a  very  disastrous  one  to  both 
tribes.  A  great  many  deaths  had  ensued  from  casu- 
alties in  battle;  but  the  chief  source  of  disaster  had 
been  a  most  terrific  hurricane,  which  had  swept  over 
the  lake,  upsetting,  sinking,  and  destroying  whole 
fleets  of  canoes,  with  all  persons  aboard  at  the  time. 
Amongst  the  lost  were  both  the  royal  barges,  with  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  the  chiefs.  The  loss  had  been 
so  overwhelming  and  general  that  the  chief  of  the 
0-kak-o-nitas  had  but  one  solitary  representative  of 
the  line  royal  left,  and  that  was  a  beloved  daughter 
named  Ta-kem-ena.     The  rival   chieftain  was  equally 


158  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

unfortunate,  for  his  entire  wigwam  had  perished  with 
the  exception  of  Mo-ca-ru-po,  his  youngest  son.  But 
these  great  misfortunes,  instead  of  producing  peace  and 
good-will,  as  a  universal  calamity  would  be  sure  to  do 
in  an  enlightened  nation,  tended  only  to  embitter  the 
passions  of  the  hostile  kings  and  lend  new  terrors  to 
the  war.  At  once  made  aware  of  what  the  other  had 
suffered,  each  promulgated  a  sort  of  proclamation, 
offering  an  immense  reward  for  the  scalp  of  his  rival's 
heir. 

Wan-ta-tay-to  declared  that  he  would  give  one  half 
liis  realm  to  whomsoever  brought  the  body  of  Mo-ca- 
ru-po,  dead  or  alive,  within  his  lines ;  and  Rhu-tog- 
au-di,  not  to  be  outdone  in  extravagance,  registered  an 
oath  that  whosoever  captured  Ta-kem-ena,  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  his  enemy,  should  be  rewarded  with  her 
patrimonial  rights,  and  also  be  associated  with  him  in 
ruling  his  own  dominions. 

As  is  universally  the  case  with  all  American  Indians, 
the  females  are  equally  warlike  and  sometimes  quite  as 
brave  as  the  males.  Ta-kem-ena  was  no  exception  to 
this  rule,  and  she  accordingly  made  instant  prepara- 
tions to  capture  or  kill  the  heir  to  the  throne  of  her 
enemy.  For  this  purpose  she  selected  a  small,  light 
bark  canoe,  and  resolved  all  alone  to  make  the  attempt. 
Nor  did  she  communicate  her  intention  to  any  one  else. 
Her  father,  even,  was  kept  in  profound  ignorance  of  his 
daughter's  design. 

About  the  same  time,  a  desire  for  fame,  and  a  thirst- 
ing for  supreme  power,  allured  young  Mo-ca-ru-po  into 
the  lists  of  those  who  became  candidates  for  the  recent 
reward  offered  by  his  father.  He,  too,  determined  to 
proceed  alone. 

It  was  just  at  midnight,  of  a  beautiful  moonlight  even- 


Lege7ids  of  Lake  Bigler.  159 

ing,  that  the  young  scions  of  royalty  set  forth  from 
•opposite  shores  of  the  lake,  and  stealthily  paddled  for 
the  dominions  of  their  enemies.  When  about  half 
across  the  boats  came  violently  into  collision.  Each 
warrior  seized  arras  for  the  conflict.  The  light  of  the 
full  moon,  riding  at  mid-heavens,  fell  softly  upon  the 
features  of  the  Princess,  and  at  the  same  time  illumina- 
ted those  of  the  young  Prince. 

The  blows  from  the  uplifted  battle-axes  failed  to  de- 
scend. The  poisoned  arrows  were  returned  to  their 
•quivers.  Surprise  gave  place  quickly  to  admiration  — 
that  to  something  more  human — pity  followed  close  in 
the  rear,  and  love,  triumphant  everywhere,  paralyzed 
the  muscles,  benumbed  the  faculties,  and  captured  the 
souls  of  his  victims.  Pouring  a  handful  of  the  pure 
water  of  the  lake  upon  each  other's  heads,  as  a  pledge 
of  love,  and  a  ceremonial  of  marriage,  in  another  mo- 
ment the  two  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  made 
man  and  wife  by  the  yearnings  of  the  soul,  and  by  a  des- 
tiny which  naught  but  Omnipotent  Power  could  avert. 
What  were  the  commands  of  kings,  their  threats,  or 
their  punishments,  in  the  scale  with  youth,  and  hope, 
and  love  ? 

Never  did  those  transparent  waters  leap  more  lightly 
beneath  the  moonbeams  than  upon  this  auspicious  night. 
Hate,  revenge,  fame,  power,  all  were  forgotten  in  the 
supreme  delights  of  love. 

Who,  indeed,  would  not  be  a  lover?  The  future 
takes  the  hue  of  the  rainbow,  and  spans  the  whole  earth 
with  its  arch.  The  past  fades  into  instant  oblivion,  and 
its  dark  scenes  are  remembered  no  more.  Every  beauti- 
ful thing  looks  lovelier — spring's  breath  smells  sweeter — 
the  heavens  bend  lower — the  stars  shine  brighter.  The 
^yes,  the  lips,  the  smiles  of  the  loved  one,  bankrupt  all 


i6o  Caxion  s  Book. 

nature.  The  diamond's  gleam,  the  flower's  blush,  the 
fountain's  purity,  are  all  her  own !  The  antelope's  swift- 
ness, the  bufftilo's  strength,  the  lion's  bravery,  are  but 
the  reflex  of  liis  manly  soul ! 

Fate  thus  had  bound  these  two  lovers  in  indissoluble 
bonds:  let  us  now  see  what  it  had  left  in  reserve. 

The  plashing  of  paddles  aroused  the  lovers  from  their 
caressing.  Quickly  leaping  into  his  own  boat,  side  by 
side,  they  flew  over  the  exultant  waves,  careless  for  the 
moment  Avhither  they  went,  and  really  aimless  in  their 
destination.  Having  safely  eluded  their  pursuers,  if 
such  they  were,  the  princes  now  consulted  as  to  their 
future  course.  After  long  and  anxious  debate  it  was 
finally  determined  that  they  should  part  for  the  pres- 
ent, and  would  each  night  continue  to  meet  at  midnight 
at  the  majestic  rock  which  towered  up  from  the  waves 
high  into  the  heavens,  not  far  from  what  is  now  known 
as  Pray's  Farm,  that  being  the  residence  and  headquar- 
ters of  the  0-kak-oni-ta  tribe. 

Accordingly,  after  many  protestations  of  eternal  fidel- 
ity, and  warned  by  the  ruddy  gleam  along  the  eastern 
sky,  they  parted. 

Night  after  night,  for  many  weeks  and  months,  the 
faithful  lovers  met  at  the  appointed  place,  and  proved 
their  affection  by  their  constancy.  They  soon  made  the 
discovery  that  the  immense  rock  was  hollow,  and  con- 
tained a  magnificent  cave.  Here,  safe  from  all  observa- 
tion, the  tardy  months  rolled  by,  both  praying  for  peace, 
yet  neither  daring  to  mention  a  termination  of  hostilities 
to  their  sires.  Finally,  the  usual  concomitants  of  lawful 
wedlock  began  to  grow  manifest  in  the  rounded  form  of 
the  Princess — in  her  sadness,  her  drooping  eyes,  and 
her  perpetual  uneasiness  whilst  in  the  presence  of  her 
father.     Not  able  any  longer  to  conceal  her  griefs,  they 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  i6i 

iDecame  tlie  court  scandal,  and  she  was  summoned  to 
the  royal  presence  and  required  to  name  her  lover. 
This,  of  course,  she  persisted  in  refusing,  but  spies 
having  been  set  upon  her  movements,  herself  and  lover 
were  surrounded  and  entrapped  in  the  fatal  cave. 

In  vain  did  she  plead  for  the  life  of  the  young  prince, 
regardless  of  her  own.  His  doom  was  sealed.  An 
embassador  was  sent  to  Rhu-tog-au-di,  announcing  the 
treachery  of  his  son,  and  inviting  that  chief  to  be  present 
at  the  immolation  of  both  victims.  He  willingly  con- 
sented to  assist  in  the  ceremonies.  A  grand  council  of 
the  two  nations  was  immediately  called,  in  order  to 
determine  in  what  manner  the  death  penalty  should  be 
inflicted.  After  many  and  grave  debates,  it  was  re- 
solved that  the  lovers  should  be  incarcerated  in  the 
dark  and  gloomy  cave  where  they  had  spent  so  many 
happy  hours,  and  there  starve  to  death. 

It  was  a  grand  gala-day  with  the  Okak-oni-tas  and 
the  Gra-sop-o-itas.  The  mighty  chiefs  had  been  recon- 
ciled, and  the  wealth,  power  and  beauty  of  the  two 
realms  turned  out  in  all  the  splendor  of  fresh  paint 
and  brilliant  feathers,  to  do  honor  to  the  occasion.  The 
young  princes  were  to  be  put  to  death.  The  lake  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  rock  was  alive  with  canoes.  The  hills  in 
the  neighborhood  were  crowded  with  spectators.  The 
two  old  kings  sat  in  the  same  splendid  barge,  and 
followed  close  after  the  bark  canoe  in  which  the  lovers 
were  being  conveyed  to  their  living  tomb.  Silently 
they  gazed  into  each  other's  faces  and  smiled.  For 
each  other  had  they  lived;  with  one  another  were  they 
now  to  die.  Without  food,  without  water,  without 
light,  they  were  hurried  into  their  bridal  chamber,  and 
huge  stones  rolled  against  the  only  entrance. 

Evening  after  evening  the  chiefs  sat  upon  the  grave 
11 


1 62  Caxioii  s  Book. 

portals  of  their  cliildren.  At  first  tliey  were  greeted  with, 
loud  cries,  extorted  by  the  gnawing  of  hunger  and  the 
agony  of  thirst.  Gradually  the  cries  gave  way  to  low 
moans,  and  finally,  after  ten  days  had  elapsed,  the  tomb 
became  as  silent  as  the  lips  of  the  lovers.  Then  the 
huge  stones  were,  by  the  command  of  the  two  kings, 
rolled  awa}^,  and  a  select  body  of  warriors  ordered  to 
enter  and  bring  forth  their  lifeless  forms.  But  the  west 
wind  had  sprung  up,  and  just  as  the  stones  were  taken 
from  the  entrance,  a  low,  deep,  sorrowful  sigh  issued 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Startled  and  terrified 
beyond  control,  the  warriors  retreated  hastily  from  the 
spot;  and  the  weird  utterances  continuing,  no  warriors 
could  be  found  brave  enough  to  sound  the  depths  of 
that  dreadful  sepulchre.  Day  after  day  canoes  crowded 
about  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  still  the  west  wind 
blew,  and  still  the  sighs  and  moans  continued  to  strike 
the  souls  of  the  trembling  warriors. 

Finally,  no  canoe  dared  approach  the  spot.  In  pad- 
dling past  they  would  always  veer  their  canoes  seaward, 
and  hurry  past  with  all  the  speed  they  could  command. 

Centuries  passed  away;  the  level  of  the  lake  had 
sunk  many  feet;  the  last  scions  of  the  0-kak-oni-tas  and 
the  Gra-sop-o-itas  had  mouldered  many  years  in  the 
burying-grounds  of  their  sires,  and  a  new  race  had 
usurped  their  old  hunting  grounds.  Still  no  one  had 
ever  entered  the  haunted  cave. 

One  day,  late  in  the  autumn  of  1849,  a  company  of 
emigrants  on  their  way  to  California,  were  passing, 
toward  evening,  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  hearing 
a  strange,  low,  mournful  sigh,  seeming  to  issue  thence, 
theylanded  their  canoe  and  resolved  to  solve  the  mystery. 
Lighting  some  pitch-pine  torches,  they  proceeded 
cautiously  to  explore  the  cavern.     For  a  long  time  they 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  163 

•could  discern  notliing.  At  length,  in  the  furthest  cor- 
ner of  the  gloomy  recess,  they  found  two  human  skele- 
tons, with  their  bony  arms  entwined,  and  their  fleshless 
skulls  resting  upon  each  other's  bosoms.  The  lovers 
are  dead,  but  the  old  cave  still  echoes  with  their  dying 
^obs. 


n. DICK    BARTER  S    YARN;    OR,  THE    LAST   OF    THE    MEEMAmS. 

Well,  Dick  began,  you  see  I  am  an  old  salt,  having 
•sailed  the  seas  for  more  than  forty-nine  years,  and 
being  entirely  unaccustomed  to  living  upon  the  land. 
By  some  accident  or  other,  I  found  myself,  in  the 
winter  of  1849,  cook  for  a  party  of  miners  who  were 
sluicing  high  up  the  North  Fork  of  the  American.  We 
had  a  hard  time  all  winter,  and  when  spring  opened,  it 
was  agreed  that  I  and  a  comrade  named  Liehard  should 
■cross  the  summit  and  spend  a  w^eek  fishing  at  the  lake. 
We  took  along  an  old  Washoe  Indian,  who  spoke  Span- 
ish, as  a  guide.  This  old  man  had  formerly  lived  on 
■the  north  margin  of  the  lake,  near  where  Tahoe  City  is 
now  situated,  and  was  perfectly  familiar  with  all  the 
most  noted  fishing  grounds  and  chief  points  of  interest 
throughout  its  entire  circuit. 

We  had  hardly  got  started  before  he  commenced 
■telling  us  of  a  remarkable  struggle,  which  he  declared 
•had  been  going  on  for  many  hundred  years  between  a 
border  tribe  of  Indians  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  lake, 
whom  he  designated  as  Water-men,  or  ''hombres  de  las 
agiias."  On  asking  if  he  really  meant  to  say  that  human 
beings  lived  and  breathed  like  fish  in  Lake  Bigler,  he 
•declared  without  any  hesitation  that  such  was  the  fact; 
that  he  had  often  seen  them ;  and  went  on  to  describe 
a  terrific  combat  he  witnessed  a  great  many  years  ago, 


164  ■     Caxton  s  Book, 

between  a  Pol-i-wog  chief  and  a  man  of  the  loater.  On 
my  expressing  some  doubt  as  to  tlie  veracity  of  tlie 
statement,  he  proffered  to  show  us  the  very  spot  where 
it  occurred;  and  at  the  same  time  expressed  a  belief 
that  by  manufacturing  a  whistle  f^om  the  bark  of  the 
mountain  chinquapin,  and  blowing  it  as  the  Pol-i-wogs 
did,  we  might  entice  some  of  their  old  enemies  from 
the  depths  of  the  lake.  My  curiosity  now  being  raised 
tip-toe,  I  proceeded  to  interrogate  Juan  more  closely, 
and  in  answer  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  following 
curious  particulars : 

The  tribe  of  border  Indians  called  the  Pol-i-wogs 
were  a  sort  of  amphibious  race,  and  a  hybrid  between 
the  Pi-Utes  and  the  mermaids  of  the  lake.  They  were 
of  a  much  lighter  color  than  their  progenitors,  and  were 
distinguished  by  a  great  many  peculiar  characteristics. 
Exceedingly  few  in  number,  and  quarrelsome  in  the 
extreme,  they  resented  every  intrusion  upon  the  waters 
of  the  lake  as  a  personal  affront,  and  made  perpetual 
•war  upon  neighboring  tribes.  Hence,  as  Juan  remarked, 
they  soon  became  extinct  after  the  invasion  of  the 
Washoes.  The  last  of  them  disappeared  about  twenty-, 
five  years  ago.  The  most  noted  of  their  peculiarities 
■were  the  following: 

First.  Their  heads  were  broad  and  extremely  flat; 
the  eyes  protuberant,  and  the  ears  scarcely  perceptible 
— being  a  small  opening  closed  by  a  movable  valve 
shaped  like  the  scale  of  a  salmon.  Their  mouths  were 
very  large,  extending  entirely  across  the  cheeks,  and 
bounded  by  a  hard  rim  of  bone,  instead  of  the  common 
lip.  In  appearance,  therefore,  the  head  did  not  look 
unlike  an  immense  catfish  head,  except  there  were  no 
fins  about  the  jaws,  and  no  feelers,  as  we  call  them. 

Second.  Their  necks  were  short,  stout,  and  chubby. 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  I65 

and  they  possessed  the  power  of  iuflating  them  at  will, 
and  thus  distending  them  to  two  or  three  times  their 
ordinary  size. 

Third.  Their  bodies  were  long,  round,  and  flexible. 
When  wet,  they  glistened  in  the  sun  like  the  back  of  an 
eel,  and  seemed  to  possess  much  greater  buoyancy  than 
those  of  common  men.  But  the  greatest  wonder  of  all 
was  a  kind  of  loose  membrane,  that  extended  from  be-  • 
neath  their  shoulders  all  the  way  down  their  sides,  and 
connected  itself  with  the  upper  portion  of  their  thighs. 
This  loose  skin  resembled  the  wings  of  the  common  house 
bat,  and  when  spread  out,  as  it  always  did  in  the  water, 
looked  like  the  membrane  lining  of  the  legs  and  fore 
feet  of  the  chipmunk. 

Fourth.  The  hands  and  feet  were  distinguished  for 
much  greater  length  of  toe  and  finger;  and  their  extrem- 
ities grew  together  like  the  toes  of  a  duck,  forming  a 
complete  web  betwixt  all  the  fingers  and  toes. 

The  Pol-i-wogs  lived  chiefly  upon  fish  and  oysters,  of 
which  there  was  once  a  great  abundance  in  the  lake. 
They  were  likewise  cannibals,  and  ate  their  enemies 
without  stint  or  compunction.  A  young  Washoe  girl 
was  considered  a  feast,  but  a  lake  maiden  was  the  ne 
^lus  ultra  of  luxuries.  The  Washoes  reciprocated  the 
compliment,  and  fattened  upon  the  blubber  of  the  Pol- 
i-wogs.  It  is  true  that  they  were  extremely  difficult  to 
capture,  for,  when  hotly  pursued,  they  plunged  into  the 
lake,  and  by  expert  swimming  and  extraordinary  diving, 
"they  generally,  managed  to  efi'ect  their  escape. 

Juan  having  exhausted  his  budget  concerning  the 
Pol-i-wogs,  I  requested  him  to  give  us  as  minute  a  de- 
scription of  the  Lake  Mermaids.  This  he  declined  for 
the  present  to  do,  alleging  as  an  excuse  that  we  would 
first  attempt  to  capture,  or  at  least  to  see  one  for  our- 


1 66  Caxton  s  Book. 

selves,  and  if  our  huut  was  unsuccessful,  he  would  tlieit 
gratify  our  curiosity. 

It  was  some  days  before  we  came  in  sight  of  this- 
magnificent  sheet  of  water.  Finally,  however,  after 
many  perilous  adventures  in  descending  the  Sierras,  we- 
reached  the  margin  of  the  lake.  Our  first  care  was  to- 
procure  trout  enough  to  last  until  we  got  ready  to  return. 
That  was  an  easy  matter,  for  in  those  days  the  lake  was- 
far  more  plentifully  supplied  than  at  present.  We  caught 
many  thousands  at  a  place  where  a  small  brook  came 
down  from  the  mountains,  and  formed  a  pool  not  a  great 
distance  from  its  entrance  into  the  lake,  and  this  pool 
was  alive  with  them.  It  occupied  us  but  three  days  to- 
catch,  clean,  and  sun-dry  as  many  as  our  single  mule 
could  carry,  and  having  still  nearly  a  week  to  spare  we^ 
determined  to  start  off  in  pursuit  of  the  mermaids. 

Our  guide  faithfully  conducted  us  to  the  spot  where 
he  beheld  the  conflict  between  the  last  of  the  Pol-i- 
wogs  and  one  of  the  water-men.  As  stated  above,  it  is 
nearly  on  the  spot  where  Talioe  City  now  stands.  The 
battle  was  a  fierce  one,  as  the  combatants  were  equally 
matched  in  strength  and  endurance,  and  was  finally 
terminated  only  by  the  interposition  of  a  small  party  of 
Washoes,  our  own  guide  being  of  the  number.  The 
struggle  was  chiefly  in  the  water,  the  Pol-i-wog  being 
better  able  to  swim  than  the  mermaid  was  to  walk.  Still, 
as  occasion  required,  a  round  or  two  took  place  on  the 
gravelly  beach.  Never  did  old  Spain  and  England 
engage  in  fiercer  conflict  for  the  dominion  of  the  seas, 
than  now  occurred  between  Pol-i-wog  and  Merman  for 
the  mastery  of  the  lake.  Each  fought,  as  the  Roman 
fought,  for  Empire.  The  Pol-i-wog,  like  the  last  of 
the  Mohicans,  had  seen  his  tribe  melt  away,  until  he 
stood,  like  some  solitary  column  at  Persepolis,  the  sole^ 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  167 

monument  of  a  once  gorgeous  temple.  The  water  chief- 
tain also  felt  that  upon  his  arm,  or  rather  tail,  every- 
thing that  made  life  desirable  was  staked.  Above  all, 
the  trident  of  his  native  sea  was  involved. 

The  weapons  of  the  Pol-i-wog  were  his  teeth  and  his 
hind  legs.  Those  of  the  Merman  were  all  concentrated 
in  the  flop  of  his  scaly  tail.  With  the  energy  of  a  dying 
alligator,  he  would  encircle,  with  one  tremendous  effort, 
the  bruised  body  of  the  Pol-i-wog,  and  floor  him  beau- 
tifully on  the  beach.  Recovering  almost  instantly,  the 
Pol-i-wog  would  seize  the  Merman  by  the  long  black 
hair,  kick  him  in  the  region  of  the  stomach,  and  grap- 
ple his  windpipe  between  his  bony  jaws,  as  the  mastiff 
does  the  infuriated  bull. 

Finally,  after  a  great  many  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
drag  the  Pol-i-wog  into  deep  water,  the  mermaid  was 
seized  by  her  long  locks  and  suddenly  jerked  out  upon 
the  beach  in  a  very  battered  condition.  At  this  moment, 
the  Washoes  with  a  yell  rushed  toward  the  combatants, 
but  the  Pol-i-wog  seeing  death  before  him  upon  water 
and  land  equally,  preferred  the  embraces  of  the  water 
nymphs  to  the  stomachs  of  the  landsmen,  and  rolling 
over  rapidly  was  soon  borne  off  into  unfathomable  depths 
by  the  triumphant  Merman. 

Such  was  the  story  of  Juan.  It  resembled  the  condi- 
tion of  the  ancient  Britons,  who,  being  crowded  by  the 
Romans  from  the  sea,  and  attacked  by  the  Picts  from 
the  interior,  lamented  their  fate  as  the  most  unfortunate 
of  men.  "The  Romans,"  they  said,  "drive  us  into  the 
land;  there  we  are  met  by  the  Picts,  who  in  turn  drive 
us  into  the  sea.  We  must  perish  in  either  event.  Those 
whom  enemies  spare,  the  waves  devour." 

Our  first  step  was  to  prepare  a  chinquapin  whistle. 
The  flute  was  easily   manufactured  by   Juan  himself, 


1 68  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

thus  wise :  He  cut  a  twig  about  eighteen  inches  in  length, 
and  not  more  than  half  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  peeliug 
the  bark  from  the  ends  an  inch  or  so,  proceeded  to  rub 
the  bark  rapidly  with  a  dry  stick  peeled  perfectly 
smooth.  In  a  short  time  the  sap  in  the  twig  com- 
menced to  exude  from  both  ends.  Then  placing  the 
large  end  between  his  teeth  he  pulled  suddenly,  and  the 
bark  slipped  off  with  a  crack  in  it.  Then  cutting  a  small 
hole  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram,  near  the  upper  end, 
he  adjusted  a  stopper  with  flattened  surface  so  as  to  fit 
exactly  the  opening.  Cutting  off  the  end  of  the  stopple 
even  with  the  bark  and  filling  the  lower  opening  nearly 
full  of  clay,  he  declared  the  work  was  done.  As  a  proof 
of  this,  he  blew  into  the  hollow  tube,  and  a  low,  musi- 
cal sound  was  emitted,  very  flute-like  and  silvery.  When 
blown  harshly,  it  could  be  heard  at  a  great  distance,  and 
filled  the  air  with  melodious  echoes. 

Thus  equipped,  we  set  out  upon  our  search.  The 
first  two  days  were  spent  unsuccessfully.  On  the  third 
w^e  found  ourselves  near  what  is  now  called  Agate  Beach. 
At  this  place  a  small  cove  indents  the  laud,  which  sweeps 
round  in  the  form  of  a  semi-circle.  The  shore  is  lit- 
erally packed  with  agates  and  crystals.  We  dug  some 
more  than  two  feet  deep  in  several  places,  but  still 
could  find  no  bottom  to  the  glittering  floor.  They  are 
of  all  colors,  but  the  prevailing  hues  are  red  and  yellow. 
Here  Juan  paused,  and  lifting  his  Avhistle  to  his  lips,  he 
performed  a  multitude  of  soft,  gentle  airs,  which  floated 
across  the  calm  waves  like  a  lover's  Serenade  breathes 
o'er  the  breast  of  sleeping  beauty.  It  all  seemed  in 
vain.  We  had  now  entirely  circumnavigated  the  lake, 
and  were  on  the  eve  of  despairing  utterly,  when  sud- 
denly we  beheld  the  surface  of  the  lake,  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  from  the  shore,  disturbed  violently,  as  if 


Legends  of  Lake  Bigler.  169 

-some  giant  whale  were  floundering  with  a  harpoon  in  its 
side.  In  a  moment  more  the  head  and  neck  of  one  of 
those  tremendous  serpents  that  of  late  years  have  in- 
fested the  lake,  were  uplifted  some  ten  or  fifteen  feet 
above  the  surface.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  we  be- 
held the  head,  face  and  hair,  as  of  a  human  being, 
emerge  quickly  from  the  water,  and  look  back  toward 
the  pursuing  foe.  The  truth  flashed  upon  us  instan- 
taneously. Here  was  a  mermaid  pursued  by  a  serpent. 
On  they  came,  seemingly  regardless  of  our  presence, 
and  had  approached  to  within  twenty  yards  of  the  spot 
where  we  stood,  when  suddenly  both  came  to  a  dead 
halt.  Juan  had  never  ceased  for  a  moment  to  blow  his 
tuneful  flute,  and  it  now  became  apparent  that  the  notes 
had  struck  their  hearing  at  the  same  time.  To  say  that 
they  were  charmed  would  but  half  express  their  ecstatic 
condition.     They  were  absolutely  entranced. 

The  huge  old  serpent  lolled  along  the  waters  for  a 
hundred  feet  or  so,  and  never  so  much  as  shook  the 
spray  from  his  hide.  He  looked  like  Milton's  portrait 
of  Satan,  stretched  out  upon  the  burning  marl  of  hell. 
In  perfect  contrast  with  the  sea  monster,  the  beautiful 
mermaideu  lifted  her  pallid  face  above  the  water,  drip- 
ping with  the  crystal  tears  of  the  lake,  and  gathering 
her  long  raven  locks,  that  floated  like  the  train  of  a 
meteor  down  her  back,  she  carelessly  flung  them  across 
her  swelling  bosom,  as  if  to  reproach  us  for  gazing  upon 
her  beauteous  form.  But  there  my  eyes  were  fastened! 
If  she  were  entranced  by  the  music,  I  was  not  less  so 
with  her  beauty.  Presently  the  roseate  hues  of  a  dying 
dolphin  played  athwart  her  brow  and  cheeks,  and  ere 
long  a  gentle  sigh,  as  if  stolen  from  the  trembling 
chords  of  an  Eolian  harp,  issued  from  her  coral  lips. 
Again  and  again  it  broke  forth,  until  it  beat  in  full 
symphony  with  the  cadences  of  Juan's  rustic  flute. 


170  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

Mj  attention  was  at  this  moment  aroused  by  the  sus- 
picions clicking  of  my  comrade's  rifle.  Turning  around 
suddenly,  I  beheld  Liehard,  with  his  piece  leveled  ai 
the  unconscious  mermaid. 

"Great  God!"  I  exclaimed!  "Liehard,  would  you. 
commit  murder  ?"  But  the  warning  came  too  late,  for 
instantaneously  the  quick  report  of  his  rifle  and  the  ter- 
rific shriek  of  the  mermaid  broke  the  noontide  stillness;, 
and,  rearing  her  bleeding  form  almost  entirely  out  o£ 
the  water,  she  plunged  headlong  forwards,  a  corpse- 
Beholding  his  prey,  powerless  within  his  grasp,  the- 
serj)ent  splashed  toward  her,  and,  ere  I  could  cock  my 
rifle,  he  had  seized  her  unresisting  body,  and  sank  with 
it  into  the  mysterious  caverns  of  the  lake.  At  this  in- 
stant, I  gave  a  loud  outcry,  as  if  in  pain.  On  opeuiuo- 
my  eyes,  my  wife  was  bending  over  me,  the  middaj 
sun  was  shining  in  my  face,  Dick  Barter  was  spinning 
some  confounded  yarn  about  the  Bay  of  Biscay  and  th& 
rum  trade  of  Jamaica,  and  the  sloop  Ediili  Beaty  was. 
still  riding  at  anchor  off  the  wild  glen,  and  gazing  tran- 
quilly at  her  ugly  image  in  the  crystal  mirror  of  Lake 
Bigier. 


X. 

ROSENTHAL'S  ELAINE. 

"T  STOOD  and  gazed  far  out  into  the  waste; 
-^  No  dip  of  oar  broke  on  tlie  listening  ear; 
But  the  quick  rippling  of  the  inward  flood 
Gave  warning  of  approaching  argosy. 

Adown  the  west,  the  day's  last  fleeting  gleam 

Faded  and  died,  and  left  the  world  in  gloom. 

Hope  hung  no  star  up  in  the  murky  east 

To  cheer  the  soul,  or  guide  the  pilgrim's  way. 

Black  frown'd  the  heavens,  and  black  the  answering- 

earth 
Reflected  from  her  watery  wastes  the  night. 

Sudden,  a  plash!  then  silence.     Once  again 
The  dripping  oar  dipped  in  its  silver  blade. 
Parting  the  waves,  as  smiles  part  beauty's  lips. 
Betwixt  me  and  the  curtain  of  the  cloud, 
Close  down  by  the  horizon's  verge,  there  crept 
From  out  the  darkness,  barge  and  crew  and  freight. 
Sailless  and  voiceless,  all ! 

Ah!  Then  I  knew 
I  stood  upon  the  brink  of  Time.     I  saw 
Before  me  Death's  swift  river  sweep  along 
And  bear  its  burden  to  the  grave. 

"Elaine!" 
One  seamew  screamed,  in  solitary  woe; 
"Elaine!  Elaine!"  stole  back  the  echo,  weird 
And  musical,  from  off  the  further  shore. 
Then  burst  a  chorus  wild,  "  Elaine!  Elaine!  " 
And  gazing  upward  through  the  twilight  haze. 


172  Caxton  s  Book. 

Mine  eyes  beheld  King  Arthur's  phantom  Court. 

There  stood  the  sturdy  monarch:  he  who  drove 

The  hordes  of  Hengist  from  old  Albion's  strand; 

And,  leaning  on  his  stalwart  arm,  his  queen, 

The  fair,  the  false,  but  trusted  Guinevere ! 

And  there,  like  the  statue  of  a  demi-god. 

In  marble  wrought  by  some  old  Grecian  hand, 

With  eyes  downcast,  towered  Lancelot  of  the  Lake. 

Lavaine  and  Torre,  the  heirs  of  Astolat, 

And  he,  the  sorrowing  Sire  of  the  Dead, 

Together  with  a  throng  of  valiant  knights 

And  ladies  fair,  were  gathered  as  of  yore. 

At  the  Bound  Table  of  bold  Arthur's  Court. 

There,  too,  was  Tristram,  leaning  on  his  lance, 

Whose  eyes  alone  of  all  that  weejDing  host 

Swam  not  in  tears;  but  indignation  burned 

Hed  in  their  sockets,  like  volcanic  fires. 

And  from  their  blazing  depths  a  Fury  shot 

Her  hissing  arrows  at  the  guilty  pair. 

Then  Lancelot,  advancing  to  the  front, 

With  glance  transfixed  upon  the  canvas  true 

That  sheds  immortal  fame  on  Rosenthal, 

Thus  chanted  forth  his  Requiem  for  the  Dead: 

Fresh  as  the  water  in  the  fountain. 

Fair  as  the  lily  by  its  side. 
Pure  as  the  snow  upon  the  mountain. 
Is  the  angel 
Elaine ! 
My  sj)irit  bride ! 

Day  after  day  she  grew  fairer. 

As  she  pined  away  in  sorrow,  at  my  side; 
No  pearl  in  the  ocean  could  be  rarer 
Than  the  angel 

Elaine! 
My  spirit  bride ! 


/ 


Rosenthal's  Elaine.  175 

The  hours  passed  away  all  unheeded, 

For  love  hath  no  landmarks  in  its  tide. 
No  child  of  misfortuneever  pleaded 
In  vain 
To  Elaine! 
My  spirit  bride ! 

Here,  where  sad  Tamesis  is  rolling 

The  wave  of  its  sorrow-laden  tide. 
Forever  on  the  air  is  heard  tolling 
The  refrain 
Of  Elaine! 
My  spirit  bride! 


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XI. 

t:^^  telescopic  eye. 

A  LEAF  FROM  A  REPORTER'S  NOTE-BOOK. 

Ij^OEr  the  past  five  or  six  weeks,  rumors  of  a  strange 
-L'  abnormal  development  of  the  powers  of  vision  of 
^  youth  named  Johnny  Palmer,  whose  parents  reside  at 
South  San  Francisco,  have  been  whispered  around  in 
scientific  circles  in  the  city,  and  one  or  two  short  notices 
have  appeared  in  the  columns  of  some  of  our  contem- 
poraries relative  to  the  prodigious  lusus  naturce,  as  the 
scientists  call  it. 

Owing  to  the  action  taken  by  the  California  College 
of  Sciences,  whose  members  comprise  some  of  our  most 
scientific  citizens,  the  afi'air  has  assumed  sucli  import- 
ance as  to  call  for  a  careful  and  exhaustive  investigation. 
Being  detailed  to  investigate  the  flying  stories,  with 
regard  to  the  powers  of  vision  claimed  for  a  lad  named 
John  or  "Johnny"  Palmer,  as  his  parents  call  him,  we 
first  of  all  ventured  to  send  in  our  card  to  Professor 
Gibbins,  the  President  of  the  California  College  of 
Sciences.  It  is  always  best  to  call  at  the  fountain-head 
for  useful  information,  a  habit  which  our  two  hundred 
thousand  readers  on  this  coast  can  never  fail  to  see  and 
appreciate.  An  estimable  gentleman  of  the  African 
persuasion,  to  whom  we  handed  our  "pasteboard,"  soou 
returned  with  the  polite  message,  "Yes,  sir;  in.  Pleasie 
walk  up."  And  so  we  followed  our  conductor  through 
several  passages   almost  as   dark   as   the  face  of  the 


The   Telescopic  Eye.  175 

•cicerone,  and  in  a  few  moments  found  ourselves  in  the 
presence  of,  perhaps,  the  busiest  man  in  the  city  of  San 
Francisco. 

Without  any  flourish  of  trumpets,  the  Professor  in- 
•quired  our  object  in  seeking  him  and  the  information  we 
desired.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "that  is  a  long  story.  I  have 
no  time  to  go  into  particulars  just  now.  I  am  comput- 
ing the  final  sheet  of  Professor  Davidson's  report  of  the 
Transit  of  Venus,  last  year,  at  Yokohama  and  Loo-Choo. 
It  must  be  ready  before  May,  and  it  requires  six  months' 
work  to  do  it  correctly." 

"But,"  I  rejoined,  "can't  you  tell  me  where  the  lad 
is  to  be  found  ?" 

"And  if  I  did,  they  will  not  let  3'ou  see  him." 

"  Let  me  alone  for  that,"  said  I,  smiling;  "  a  reporter, 
like  love,  finds  his  way  where  wolves  would  fear  to 
tread." 

"  Eeally,  my  dear  sir,"  quickly  responded  the  Doctor, 
^'I  have  no  time  to  chat  this  morning.  Our  special 
'Committee  submitted  its  report  yesterday,  which  is  on 
file  in  that  book-case ;  and  if  you  will  promise  not  to 
publish  it  until  after  it  has  been  read  in  open  session 
of  the  College,  you  may  take  it  to  your  sanctum,  run 
it  over,  and  clip  from  it  enough  to  satisfy  the  public 
for  the  present." 

Saying  this,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  opened  the  case, 
•took  from  a  pigeon-hole  a  voluminous  written  document 
tied  up  with  red  tape,  and  handed  it  to  me,  adding,  "Be 
-careful!"  Seating  himself  without  another  word,  he 
turned  his  back  on  me,  and  I  sallied  forth  into  the 
street. 

Pleaching  the  office,  I  scrutinized  the  writing  on  the 
■envelope,  and  found  it  as  follows:  "Pieporfcof  Special 
<3ommittee  —  Boy  Palmer — Yision  —  Laws  of  Light — 


176  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

Filed  February  10,  1876— Stittmore,  Sec."  Opening  the 
document,  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  a  full,  accurate,  and, 
up  to  the  present  time,  complete  account  of  the  phe- 
nomenal case  I  was  after,  and  regretted  the  promise 
made  not  to  publish  the  entire  report  until  read  in  open 
session  of  the  College.  Therefore,  I  shall  be  compelled 
to  give  the  substance  of  the  report  in  my  own  words, 
only  giving  verbatim  now  and  then  a  few  scientific 
phrases  which  are  not  fully  intelligible  to  me,  or  sus- 
ceptible of  circumlocution  in  common  language. 

The  report  is  signed  by  Doctors  Bryant,  Gadbury  and 
Golson,  three  of  our  ablest  medical  men,  and  approved 
by  Professor  Smyth,  the  oculist.  So  far,  therefore,  as 
authenticity  and  scientific  accuracy  are  concerned,  our 
readers  may  rely  implicitly  upon  the  absolute  correct- 
ness of  every  fact  stated  and  conclusion  reached. 

The  first  paragraph  of  the  report  gives  the  name  of 
the  child,  "John  Palmer,  age,  nine  years,  and  place  of 
residence,  South  San  Francisco,  Gulp  Hill,  near  Cath- 
olic Orphan  Asylum;"  and  then  plunges  at  once  into  in 
meclias  res. 

It  appears  that  the  period  through  which  the  investi- 
gation ran  was  only  fifteen  days;  but  it  seems  to  have 
been  so  thorough,  by  the  use  of  the  ophthalmoscope  and 
other  modern  appliances  and  tests,  that  no  regrets 
ought  to  be  indulged  as  to  the  brevity  of  the  time  em- 
ployed in  experiments.  Besides,  we  have  superadded 
a  short  and  minute  account  of  our  own,  verifying  some 
of  the  most  curious  facts  reported,  with  several  tests 
proposed  by  ourselves  and  not  included  in  the  state- 
ment of  the  scientific  committee. 

To  begin,  then,  with  the  beginning  of  the  inquiries  by 
the  committee.  They  were  conducted  into  a  small  back 
room,  darkened  by  old  blankets  hung  up  at  the  win- 


The   Telescopic  Eye,  177 

dow,  for  the  purpose  of  the  total  exclusion  of  daylight; 
an  absurd  remedy  for  blindness,  recommended  by  a 
noted  quack  whose  name  adorns  the  extra  fly-leaf  of  the 
San  Francisco  Thndh  Teller.  The  lad  was  reclining  upon 
an  old  settee,  ill-clad  and  almost  idiotic  in  expression. 
As  the  committee  soon  ascertained,  his  mother  only  was 
at  home,  the  father  being  absent  at  his  customary  oc- 
cupation— that  of  switch-tender  on  the  San  Jose  Rail- 
road. She  notified  her  son  of  the  presence  of  strangers 
and  he  rose  and  walked  with  a  firm  step  toward  where 
the  gentlemen  stood,  at  the  entrance  of  the  room.  He 
shook  them  all  by  the  hand  and  bade  them  good  morn- 
ing. In  reply  to  questions  rapidly  put  and  answered 
by  his  mother,  the  following  account  of  the  infancy  of 
the  boy  and  the  accidental  discovery  of  his  extraordi- 
nary powers  of  vision  was  given : 

He  was  born  in  the  house  where  the  committee  found 
him,  nine  years  ago  the  15tli  of  last  January.  Nothing 
of  an  unusual  character  occurred  until  his  second  year, 
when  it  was  announced  by  a  neighbor  that  the  boy  was 
completely  blind,  his  parents  never  having  been  sus- 
picious of  the  fact  before  that  time,  although  the  mother 
declared  that  for  some  months  anterior  to  the  discovery 
she  had  noticed  some  acts  of  the  child  that  seemed  to 
indicate  mental  imbecility  rather  than  blindness.  From 
this  time  forward  until  a  few  months  ago  nothing  hap- 
pened to  vary  the  boy's  existence  except  a  new  remedy 
now  and  then  prescribed  by  neighbors  for  the  supposed 
malady.  He  was  mostly  confined  to  a  darkened  cham- 
ber, and  was  never  trusted  alone  out  of  doors.  He 
grew  familiar,  by  touch  and  sound,  with  the  forms  of 
most  objects  about  him,  and  could  form  very  accurate 
guesses  of  the  color  and  texture  of  them  all.  His  con- 
versational powers  did  not  seem  greatly  impaired,  and 
12 


178  Caxton  s  Book. 

he  readily  acquired  much  useful  knowledge  from  list- 
ening attentively  to  everything  that  was  said  in  his  pres- 
ence. He  was  quite  a  musician,  and  touched  the  har- 
monicon,  banjo  and  accordeon  with  skill  and  feeling. 
He  was  unusually  sensitive  to  the  presence  of  light, 
though  incapable  of  seeing  any  object  with  any  degree 
of  distinctness;  and  hence  the  attempt  to  exclude  light 
as  the  greatest  enemy  to  the  recovery  of  vision.  It  was 
very  strange  that  up  to  the  time  of  the  examination  of 
the  committee,  no  scientific  examination  of  the  boy's 
eye  had  been  made  by  a  competent  oculist,  the  parents 
contenting  themselves  with  the  chance  opinions  of  visi- 
tors or  the  cheap  nostrums  of  quacks.  It  is  perhaps 
fortunate  for  science  that  this  was  the  case,  as  a  cure 
for  the  eye  might  have  been  an  extinction  of  its  abnormal 
power. 

On  the  evening  of  the  12th  of  December  last  (1875), 
the  position  of  the  child's  bed  was  temporarily  changed 
to  make  room  for  a  visitor.  The  bed  was  placed  against 
the  wall  of  the  room,  fronting  directly  east,  with  the 
wdndow  opening  at  the  side  of  the  bed  next  to  the  head. 
The  boy  w^as  sent  to  bed  about  seven  o'clock,  and  the 
parents  and  their  visitor  .were  seated  in  the  front  room, 
spending  the  evening  in  social  intercourse.  The  moon 
rose  full  and  cloudless  about  half-past  seven  o'clock, 
and  shone  full  in  the  face  of  the  sleeping  boy. 

Something  aroused  him  from  slumber,  and  when  he 
opened  his  eyes  tjie  first  object  they  encountered  was 
the  round  disk  of  her  orb.  By  some  oversight  the  cur- 
tain had  been  removed  from  the  window,  and  probably 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  beheld  the  lustrous  queen 
of  night  swimming  in  resplendent  radiance,  and  bath- 
ing hill  and  bay  in  effulgent  glory.  Uttering  a  cry, 
equally  of  terror  and  delight,  he  sprang  up  in  bed  and 


The   Telescopic  Eye.  179 

sat  there  like  a  statue,  -with  eyes  aglare,  mouth  open, 
finger  pointed,  and  astonishment  depicted  on  every 
feature.  His  sudden,  sharp  scream  brought  his  mother 
to  his  side,  who  tried  for  some  moments  in  vain  to  dis- 
tract his  gaze  from  the  object  before  him.  Failing  even 
to  attract  notice,  she  called  in  her  husband  and  friend, 
and  together  they  besought  the  boy  to  lie  down  and  go 
to  sleep,  but  to  no  avail.  Believing  him  to  be  ill  and  in 
convulsions,  they  soon  seized  him,  and  were  on  the 
point  of  immersing  him  in  a  hot  bath,  when,  with  a 
sudden  spring,  he  escaped  from  their  grasp  and  ran  out 
the  front  door.  Again  he  fixed  his  unwinking  eyes  upon 
the  moon,  and  remained  speechless  for  several  seconds. 
At  length,  having  seemingly  satisfied  his  present  curi- 
osity, he  turned  on  his  mother,  who  stood  wringing  her 
hands  in  the  doorway  and  moaning  piteously,  and  ex- 
claimed, "I  can  see  the  moon  yonder,  and  it  is  so  beau- 
tiful that  I  am  going  there  to-morrow  morning,  as  soon 
as  I  get  up." 

"How  big  does  it  look?"  said  his  mother. 

"So  big,"  he  replied,  "that  I  cannot  see  it  all  at  one 
glance — as  big  as  all  out  of  doors." 

"How  far  off  from  you  does  it  seem  to  be?" 

"About  half  a  car's  distance,"  he  quickly  rejoined. 

It  may  be  here  remarked  that  the  boy's  idea  of  dis- 
tance had  been  measured  all  his  life  by  the  distance 
from  his  home  to  the  street-car  station  at  the  foot  of  the 
liill.  This  was  about  two  hundred  yards,  so  that  the 
reply  indicated  that  the  moon  appeared  to  be  only  one 
hundred  yards  from  the  spectator.  The  boy  then  pro- 
ceeded of  his  own  accord  to  give  a  very  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  appearance  of  objects  which  he  beheld,  cor- 
responding, of  course,  to  his  poverty  of  words  with 
which  to  clothe  his  ideas. 


i8o  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

His  account  of  things  beheld  by  him  was  so  curious, 
wonderful  and  apparently  accurate,  that  the  little  group 
about  him  passed  rapidly  from  a  conviction  of  his  in- 
sanity to  a  belief  no  less  absurd — that  he  had  become, 
in  the  cant  lingo  of  the  day,  a  seeing,  or  "clairvoyant'* 
medium.  Such  was  the  final  conclusion  to  which  his 
parents  had  arrived  at  the  time  of  the  visit  of  the  scien- 
tific committee.  He  had  been  classed  with  that  credu- 
lous school  known  to  this  century  as  spiritualists,  and 
had  been  visited  solely  by  persons  of  that  ilk  heretofore. 

The  committee  having  fully  examined  the  boy,  and  a 
number  of  independent  witnesses,  as  to  the  facts,  soon 
set  about  a  scientific  investigation  of  the  true  causes  of 
of  the  phenomenon.  The  first  step,  of  course,  was  to 
examine  the  lad's  eye  with  the  modern  ophthalmoscope, 
an  invention  of  Professor  Helmholtz,  of  Heidelberg,  a 
few  years  ago,  by  means  of  which  the  depths  of  this 
organ  can  be  explored,  and  the  smallest  variations  from 
a  healthy  or  normal  condition  instantaneously  detected. 

The  mode  of  using  the  instrument  is  as  follows :  The 
room  is  made  perfectly  dark;  a  brilliant  light  is  then 
placed  near  the  head  of  the  patient,  and  the  rays  are 
reflected  by  a  series  of  small  mirrors  into  his  eye,  as  if 
they  came  from  the  eye  of  the  observer;  then,  by  look- 
ing through  the  central  aperture  of  the  instrument,  the 
oculist  can  examine  the  illuminated  interior  of  the  eye- 
ball, and  perceive  every  detail  of  structure,  healthy  or 
morbid,  as  accurately  and  clearly  as  we  can  see  any  part 
of  the  exterior  of  the  body.  No  discomfort  arises  to 
the  organ  examined,  and  all  its  hidden  mysteries  can  be 
studied  and  understood  as  clearly  as  those  of  any  other 
organ  of  the  body. 

This  course  was  taken  with  John  Palmer,  and  the 
true  secret  of  his  mysterious  power  of  vision  detected 
in  an  instant. 


The   Telescopic  Eye,  i8i 

On  applying  the  ophthalmoscope,  the  committee  ascer- 
tained in  a  moment  that  the  boy's  eye  was  abnormally 
shaped.  A  natural,  perfect  eye  is  perfectly  round.  But 
the  eye  examined  was  exceedingly  flat,  very  thin,  with 
large  iris,  flat  lens,  immense  petira,  and  wonderfully 
dilated  pupil.  The  effect  of  the  shape  was  at  once 
aj)parent.  It  was  utterly  impossible  to  see  any  object 
with  distinctness  at  any  distance  short  of  many  thou- 
sands of  miles.  Had  the  eye  been  elongated  inward,  or 
shaped  like  an  egg — to  as  great  an  extent,  the  boy 
would  have  been  effectually  blind,  for  no  combination 
of  lens  power  could  have  placed  the  image  of  the  object 
beyond  the  coat  of  the  retina.  In  other  words,  there 
are  two  common  imperfections  of  the  human  organ  of 
sight;  one  called  myopia,  or  "near-sightedness;"  the 
presbyopia,  or  "far-sightedness." 

"The  axis  being  too  long,"  says  the  report,  "in 
myopic  eyes,  parallel  rays,  such  as  proceed  from  distant 
objects,  are  brought  to  a  focus  at  a  point  so  far  in  front 
of  the  retina,  that  only  confused  images  are  formed 
upon  it.  Such  a  malformation,  constituting  an  excess  of 
refractive  power,  can  only  be  neutralized  by  concave 
glasses,  which  give  such  a  direction  to  rays  entering 
the  eye  as  will  allow  of  their  being  brought  to  a  focus 
at  a  proper  point  for  distant  perception." 

"Presbyopia  is  the  reverse  of  all  this.  The  antero- 
posterior axis  of  such  eyes  being  too  short,  owing  to 
the  flat  plate-like  shape  of  the  ball,  their  refractive 
power  is  not  sufficient  to  bring  even  parallel  rays  to  a 
focus  upon  the  retina,  but  is  adapted  for  convergent 
rays  only.  Convex  glasses,  in  a  great  measure,  com- 
pensate for  this  quality  by  rendering  parallel  rays  con- 
vergent; and  such  glasses,  in  ordinary  cases,  bring  the 
rays  to  a  focus  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  glass, 


1 82  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

correspondiug  to  its  degree  of  curvature.  But  in  the  case 
under  examination,  no  glass  or  combination  of  glasses 
could  be  invented  sufficiently  concave  to  remedy  the 
malformation.  By  a  mathematical  problem  of  easy  solu- 
tion, it  was  computed  that  the  nearest  distance  from  the 
unaided  eye  of  the  patient  at  which  a  distinct  image 
could  be  formed  upon  the  retina,  was  two  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  miles,  a  fraction  short  of  the  mean  dis- 
tance of  the  moon  from  the  earth;  and  hence  it  became 
perfectly  clear  that  the  boy  could  see  with  minute 
distinctness  whatever  was  transpiring  on  the  surface  of 
the  moon. 

Such  being  the  undeniable  truth  as  demonstrated  by 
science,  the  declaration  of  the  lad  assumed  a  far  higher 
value  than  the  mere  dicta  of  spiritualists,  or  the  mad 
ravings  of  a  monomaniac;  and  the  committee  at  once 
set  to  work  to  glean  all  the  astronomical  knowledge 
they  could  by  frequent  and  prolonged  night  interviews 
with  the  boy. 

It  was  on  the  night  of  January  9,  1876,  that  the  first 
satisfactory  experiment  was  tried,  testing  beyond  all 
cavil  or  doubt  the  powers  of  the  subject's  eye.  It  was 
full  moon,  and  that  luminary  rose  clear  and  dazzlingly 
bright.  The  committee  were  on  hand  at  an  early  hour, 
and  the  boy  was  in  fine  condition  and  exuberant  spirits. 
The  interview  was  secret,  and  none  but  the  members 
of  the  committee  and  the  parents  of  the  child  were 
present.  Of  course  the  first  proposition  to  be  settled 
was  that  of  the  inhabitability  of  that  sphere.  This  the 
boy  had  frequently  declared  was  the  case,  and  he  had 
on  several  previous  occasions  described  minutely  the 
form,  size  and  means  of  locomotion  of  the  Lunarians. 
On  this  occasion  he  repeated  in  almost  the  same  lan- 
guage, what  he  had  before  related  to  his  parents  and 


The   Telescopic  Eye.  183 

friends,  but  was  more  minute,  owing  to  the  greater 
transparency  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  experience  in 
expression  ah'eady  acquired. 

The  Lunarians  are  not  formed  at  all  like  ourselves. 
They  are  less  in  height,  and  altogether  of  a  diifferent 
appearance.  When  fully  grown,  they  resemble  some- 
what a  chariot  wheel,  with  four  spokes,  converging  at 
the  center  or  axle.  They  have  four  eyes  in  the  head, 
which  is  the  axle,  so  to  speak,  and  all  the  limbs  branch 
out  directly  from  the  center,  like  some  sea-forms  known 
as  "Kadiates."  They  move  by  turning  rapidly  like  a 
wheel,  and  travel  as  fast  as  a  bird  through  the  air. 
The  children  are  undeveloped  in  form,  and  are  perfectly 
round,  like  a  pumpkin  or  orange.  As  they  grow  older, 
they  seem  to  drop  or  absorb  the  rotundity  of  the  whole 
body,  and  finally  assume  the  appearance  of  a  chariot 
wheel. 

They  are  of  different  colors,  or  nationalties — bright 
red,  orange  and  blue  being  the  predominant  hues.  The 
reds  are  in  a  large  majority.  They  do  no  work,  but 
sleep  every  four  or  five  hours.  They  have  no  houses, 
and  need  none.  They  have  no  clothing,  and  do  not 
require  it.  There  being  no  night  on  the  side  of  the 
moon  fronting  the  sun,  and  no  day  on  the  opposite  side, 
all  the  inhabitants,  apparently  at  a  given  signal  of  some 
kind,  form  into  vast  armies,  and  flock  in  myriads  to  the 
sleeping  grounds  on  the  shadow-side  of  the  planet. 
They  do  not  appear  to  go  very  far  over  the  dark  rim, 
for  they  reappear  in  immense  platoons  in  a  few  hours, 
and  soon  spread  themselves  over  the  illuminated  sur- 
face. They  sleep  and  wake  about  six  times  in  one 
ordinary  day  of  twenty-four  hours.  Their  occupations 
cannot  be  discerned;  they  must  be  totally  different  from 
anything  upon  the  earth. 


184  Caxton  s  Book. 

The  surface  of  the  moon  is  all  hill  and  hollow.  There 
are  but  few  level  spots,  nor  is  there  anj  water  visible. 
The  atmosphere  is  almost  as  refined  and  light  as  hydro- 
gen gas.  There  is  no  fire  visible,  nor  are  there  any  vol- 
canoes. Most  of  the  time  of  the  inhabitants  seems  to  be 
spent  in  playing  games  of  locomotion,  spreading  them- 
selves into  squares,  circles,  triangles,  and  other  mathe- 
matical figures.  They  move  always  in  vast  crowds.  No 
one  or  two  are  ever  seen  separated  from  the  main  bodies. 
The  children  also  flock  in  herds,  and  seem  to  be  all  of 
one  family.  Individualism  is  unknown.  They  seem  to 
spawn  like  herring  or  shad,  or  to  be  propagated  like 
bees,  from  the  queen,  in  myriads.  Motion  is  their 
normal  condition.  The  moment  after  a  mathematical 
figure  is  formed,  it  is  dissolved,  and  fresh  combinations 
take  place,  like  the  atoms  in  a  kaleidoscope.  No  other 
species  of  animal,  bird,  or  being  exist  upon  the  illumi- 
nated face  of  the  moon. 

The  shrubbery  and  vegetation  of  the  moon  is  all 
metallic.  Vegetable  life  nowhere  exists;  but  the  forms 
of  some  of  the  shrubs  and  trees  are  exceedingly  beauti- 
ful. The  highest  trees  do  not  exceed  twenty-five  feet, 
and  they  appear  to  have  all  acquired  their  full  growth. 
The  ground  is  strewn  with  flowers,  but  they  are  all 
formed  of  metals — gold,  silver,  copper,  and  tin  predom- 
inating. But  there  is  a  new  kind  of  metal  seen  every- 
where on  tree,  shrub  and  flower,  nowhere  known  on  the 
earth.  It  is  of  a  bright  vermilion  color,  and  is  semi- 
transparent.  The  mountains  are  all  of  bare  and  burnt 
granite,  and  appear  to  have  been  melted  with  fire.  The 
committee  called  the  attention  of  the  boy  to  the  bright 
"  sea  of  glass"  lately  observed  near  the  northern  rim  of 
the  moon,  and  inquired  of  what  it  is  composed.  He 
examined  it  carefully,  and  gave  such  a  minute  descrip- 


The   Telescopic  Eye.  185 

tion  of  it  that  it  became  apparent  at  once  to  the  com- 
mittee that  it  was  pure  mercmy  or  quicksilver.  The 
reason  -wlij  it  lias  but  very  recently  sliown  itself  to 
astronomers  is  thus  accounted  for :  it  appears  close  up 
to  the  line  of  demarcation  separating  the  light  and 
shadow  upon  the  moon's  disk;  and  on  closer  inspection 
a  distinct  cataract  of  the  fluid — in  short,  a  metallic 
'Niagara,  was  clearly  seen  falling  from  the  night  side  to 
the  day  side  of  the  luminary.  It  has  already  filled  up 
a  vast  plain — one  of  the  four  that  exist  on  the  moon's 
surface — and  appears  to  be  still  emptying  itself  with 
very  great  rapidity  and  volume.  It  covers  an  area  of 
five  by  seven  hundred  miles  in  extent,  and  may  possibly 
deluge  one  half  the  entire  surface  of  the  moon.  It  does 
not  seem  to  occasion  much  apprehension  to  the  inhabit- 
ants, as  they  were  seen  skating,  so  to  speak,  in  platoons 
^nd  battalions,  over  and  across  it.  In  fact,  it  presents 
the  appearance  of  an  immense  park,  to  which  the  Lu- 
narians flock,  and  disport  themselves  with  gi-eat  gusto 
upon  its  polished  face.  One  of  the  most  beautiful 
sights  yet  seen  by  the  lad  was  the  formation  of  a  new 
£gure,  which  he  drew  upon  the  sand  with  his  finger. 

The  central  heart  was  of  crimson-colored  natives; 
the  one  to  the  right  of  pale  orange,  and  the  left  of 
bright  blue.  It  was  ten  seconds  in  forming,  and  five 
seconds  in  dispersing.  The  number  engaged  in  the 
■evolution  could  not  be  less  than  half  a  million. 

Thus  has  been  solved  one  of  the  great  astronomical 
questions  of  the  century. 

The  next  evening  the  committee  assembled  earlier, 
«o  as  to  get  a  view  of  the  planet  Yenus  before  the  moon 
lose.  It  was  the  first  time  that  the  lad's  attention  had 
l)een  draAvn  to  any  of  the  planets,  and  he  evinced  the 
liveliest  joy  when  he  first  beheld  the  cloudless  disk  of 


1 86  Caxtons  Book. 

that  resplendent  world.  It  may  here  be  stated  that  his 
power  of  vision,  in  looking  at  the  fixed  stars,  was  no 
greater  or  less  than  that  of  an  ordinary  eye.  They 
appeared  only  as  points  of  light,  too  far  removed  into 
the  infinite  beyond  to  afford  any  information  concern- 
ing their  properties.  But  the  committee  were  doomed 
to  a  greater  disappointment  when  they  inquired  of  the 
boy  what  he  beheld  on  the  surface  of  Venus.  He  re- 
plied, "Nothing  clearly;  all  is  confused  and  watery;  I 
see  nothing  with  distinctness."  The  solution  of  the 
difficult}^  was  easily  apprehended,  and  at  once  surmisedo. 
The  focus  of  the  eye  was  fixed  by  nature  at  240,000 
miles,  and  the  least  distance  of  Venus  from  the  earth 
being  24,293,000  miles,  it  was,  of  course,  impossible  to 
observe  that  planet's  surface  with  distinctness.  Still 
she  appeared  greatly  enlarged,  covering  about  one 
hundredth  part  of  the  heavens,  and  blazing  with  unim- 
aginable splendor. 

Experiments  upon  Jupiter  and  Mars  were  equally 
futile,  and  the  committee  half  sorrowfully  turned  again 
to  the  inspection  of  the  moon. 

The  report  then  proceeds  at  great  length  to  give  full 
descriptions  of  the  most  noted  geographical  peculiari- 
ties of  the  lunar  surface,  and  corrects  many  errors  fallen 
into  by  Herschel,  Leverrier  and  Proctor.  Professor 
Secchi  informs  us  that  the  surface  of  the  moon  is  much- 
better  known  to  astronomers  than  the  surface  of  the 
earth  is  to  geographers;  for  there  are  two  zones  on  the 
globe  within  the  Arctic  and  Antarctic  circles,  that  we 
can  never  examine.  But  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the 
illuminated  face  of  the  moon  has  been  fully  delineated,, 
examined  and  named,  so  that  no  object  greater  than 
sixty  feet  square  exists  but  has  been  seen  and  photo- 
graphed by  means  of  Lord  Eosse's  telescope  and  De  la- 


The   Telescopic  Eye.  187 

Ruis'  camera  and  apparatus.  As  the  entire  report  will 
be  ordered  published  at  the  next  weekly  meeting  of  the 
College,  we  refrain  from  further  extracts,  but  now  pro- 
ceed to  narrate  the  results  of  our  own  interviews  with 
the  boy. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  17th  of  February,  1876, 
that  we  ventured  with  rather  a  misgiving  heart  to  ap- 
proach Gulp  Hill,  and  the  humble  residence  of  a  child 
destined,  before  the  year  is  out,  to  become  the  most 
celebrated  of  living  beings.  We  armed  ourselves  with 
a  pound  of  sugar  candy  for  the  boy,  some  7nusl{n-de- 
laine  as  a  present  to  the  mother,  and  a  box  of  cigars  for 
the  father.  We  also  took  with  us  a  very  large -sized 
opera-glass,  furnished  for  the  purpose  by  M.  Mnller. 
At  j&rst  we  encountered  a  positive  refusal;  then,  on  ex- 
hibiting the  cigars,  a  qualified  negative  ;  and  finally^ 
when  the  muslin  and  candy  were  drawn  on  the  enemy, 
we  were  somewhat  coldly  invited  in  and  proffered  a 
seat.  The  boy  was  pale  and  restless,  and  his  eyes 
without  bandage  or  glasses.  We  soon  ingratiated  our- 
self  into  the  good  oi^inion  of  the  whole  party,  and 
henceforth  encountered  no  difficulty  in  pursuing  our 
investigations.  The  moon  being  nearly  full,  we  first  of 
all  verified  the  tests  by  the  committee.  These  were  all 
perfectly  satisfactory  and  reliable.  Requesting,  then, 
to  stay  until  after  midnight,  for  the  purpose  of  inspect- 
ing Mars  with  the  opera -glass,  we  spent  the  interval  in 
obtaining  the  history  of  the  child,  which  we  have  given 
above. 

The  planet  Mars  being  at  this  time  almost  in  dead 
opposition  to  the  sun,  and  with  the  earth  in  conjunc- 
tion, is  of  course  as  near  to  the  earth  as  he  ever  ap- 
proaches, the  distance  being  thirty -five  millions  of 
miles.     He  rises  toward  midnight,  and  is  in  the  con- 


1 88  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

«tellation  Virgo,  where  he  may  be  seen  to  the  greatest 
possible  advantage,  being  in  perigee.  Mars  is  most 
like  the  earth  of  all  the  planetary  bodies.  He  revolves 
on  his  axis  in  a  little  over  tvi^enty-four  hours,  and  his 
surface  is  pleasantly  variegated  with  land  and  water, 
pretty  much  like  our  own  world  —  the  land,  however, 
being  in  slight  excess.  He  is,  therefore,  the  most  in- 
teresting of  all  the  heavenly  bodies  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  earth. 

Having  all  things  in  readiness,  we  directed  the  glass 
to  the  planet.  Alas,  for  all  our  calculations,  the  power 
was  insufficient  to  clear  away  the  obscurity  resulting 
irom  imperfect  vision  and  short  focus. 

Swallowing  the  bitter  disappointment,  we  hastily 
made  arrangements  for  another  interview,  with  a  tele- 
scope, and  bade  the  family  good  night. 

There  is  but  one  large  telescope  properly  mounted  in 
the  city,  and  that  is  the  property  and  pride  of  its  accom- 
plished owner,  J.  P.  Manrow,  Esq.  We  at  once  pro- 
•cured  an  interview  with  that  gentleman,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  on  Saturday  evening  the  boy  should  be 
conveyed  to  his  residence,  picturesquely'  situated  on 
Hussian  Hill,  commanding  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
Golden  Gate  and  the  ocean  beyond. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  boy,  his  parents  and  my- 
self presented  ourselves  at  the  door  of  that  hospitable 
mansion.  We  were  cordially  welcomed,  and  conducted 
without  further  parley  into  the  lofty  observatory  on  the 
top  of  the  house.  In  due  time  the  magnificent  tube 
was  presented  at  the  planet,  but  it  was  discovered  that 
the  power  it  was  set  for  was  too  low.  It  was  then 
.gauged  for  240,000  diameters,  being  the  full  strength 
of  the  telescope,  and  the  eye  of  the  boy  observer  placed 
sX  the  eye-glass.     One  cry  of  joy,  and  unalloyed  delight 


The   Telescopic  Eye. 


189 


told  the  story!  Mars,  and  its  mouutains  and  seas,  its- 
rivers,  vales,  and  estuaries,  its  polar  snow  -  caps  and 
grassy  plains — its  inhabitants,  palaces,  ships,  villages 
and  cities,  were  all  revealed,  as  distinctly,  clearly  and 
certainly,  as  the  eye  of  Kit  Carson,  from  the  summits 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada  range,  beheld  the  stupendous 
panorama  of  the  Sacramento  Valley,  and  the  snow-clad 
summits  of  Mount  Hood  and  Shasta  Butte. 


XII. 

THE  EMERALD  ISLE. 

/""IHAOS  was  ended.     From  its  ruins  rolled 

^-^  The  central  Sun,  poised  on  his  throne  of  gold; 

The  changeful  Moon,  that  floods  the  hollow  dome 

Of  raven  midnight  with  her  silvery  foam; 

Vast  constellations  swarming  all  around. 

In  seas  of  azure,  without  line  or  bound. 

And  this  green  globe,  rock-ribbed  and  mountain-crown'd. 

The  eye  of  God,  before  His  hand  had  made 

Man  in  His  image,  this  wide  realm  surveyed; 

O'er  hill  and  valley,  over  stream  and  wood. 

He  glanced  triumphant,  and  pronounced  it  "  good." 

But  ere  He  formed  old  Adam  and  his  bride, 

He  called  a  shining  seraph  to  His  side, 

And  pointing  to  our  world,  that  gleamed  afar, 

And  twinkled  on  creation's  verge,  a  star, 

Bade  him  float  'round  this  new  and  narrow  span 

And  bring  report  if  all  were  ripe  for  Man. 

The  angel  spread  his  fluttering  pinions  fair. 

And  circled  thrice  the  circumambient  air; 

Quick,  then,  as  thought,  he  stood  before  the  gate 

"Where  cherubs  biirn,  and  minist'ring  spirits  wait. 

Nor  long  he  stood,  for  God  beheld  his  plume, 

Already  tarnished  by  terrestrial  gloom. 

And  beck'ning  kindly  to  the  flurried  aid, 

Said,  "  Speak  your  wish;  if  good,  be  it  obeyed." 

The  seraph  raised  his  gem-encircled  hand, 

Obeisance  made,  at  heaven's  august  command, 

And  thus  replied,  in  tones  so  bold  and  clear. 

That  angels  turned  and  lent  a  listening  ear: 


The  Emerald  Isle.  191 

"**  Lord  of  all  systems,  be  they  near  or  far, 

'Thrice  have  I  circled  'round  yon  beauteous  Star, 

I've  seen  its  mountains  rise,  its  rivers  roll. 

Its  oceans  sweep  majestic  to  each  pole; 

Its  floors  in  mighty  continents  expand. 

Or  dwindle  into  specs  of  fairy-land; 

Its  prairies  spread,  its  forests  stretch  in  pride. 

And  all  its  valleys  dazzle  like  a  bride; 

Hymns  have  I  heard  in  all  its  winds  and  streams. 

And  beauty  seen  in  all  its  rainbow  gleams. 

But  whilst  the  Land  can  boast  of  every  gem 

That  sparkles  in  each  seraph's  diadem; 

"Whilst  diamonds  blaze  'neath  dusk  Golconda's  skies, 

And  rubies  bleed  where  Alps  and  Andes  rise; 

"Whilst  in  Brazilian  brooks  the  topaz  shines. 

And  opals  burn  in  California  mines; 

"Whilst  in  the  vales  of  Araby  the  Blest 

The  sapphire  flames  beside  the  amethyst: 

The  pauper  Ocean  sobs  forever  more, 

XJngemm'd,  unjeweled,  on  its  wailing  shore!" 

*'What  wouldst  thou  do?"  resj^onded  heaven's  great  King. 

*'  Add  music  to  the  song  the  breakers  sing!  " 

The  strong-soul'd  seraph  cried,  "  I'd  make  yon  sea 

Hival  in  tone  heaven's  sweetest  minstrelsy; 

I'd  plant  within  the  ocean's  bubbling  tide 

An  island  gem,  of  every  sea  the  pride ! 

So  bright  in  robes  of  ever- living  green, 

In  breath  so  sweet,  in  features  so  serene. 

Such  crystal  streams  to  course  its  valleys  fair. 

Such  healthful  gales  to  purify  its  air. 

Such  fertile  soil,  such  ever-verdant  trees, 

AjQgels  should  name  it  'Emerald  of  the  Seas!  '  " 


^o^ 


The  seraph  paused,  and  downward  cast  his  eyes, 
Whilst  heav'nly  hosts  stood  throbbing  with  sur^jrise. 


192  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

Again  the  Lord  of  all  the  realms  above, 
Supreme  in  might,  but  infinite  in  love. 
With  no  harsh  accent  in  His  tones  replied: 
"  Go,  drop  this  Emerald  in  the  envious  tide!" 

Quick  as  the  lightning  cleaves  the  concave  blue. 

The  seraph  seized  the  proffer' d  gem,  and  flew 

Until  he  reached  the  confines  of  the  earth. 

Still  struggling  in  the  throes  of  turbid  birth; 

And  there,  upon  his  self-sustaining  wing, 

Sat  poised,  and  heard  our  globe  her  matins  sing; 

Beheld  the  sun  traverse  the  arching  sky, 

The  sister  Moon  walk  forth  in  majesty; 

Saw  every  constellation  rise  and  roll 

Athwart  the  heaven,  or  circle  round  the  pole. 

Nor  did  he  move,  until  our  spotted  globe 

Had  donned  for  him  her  morn  and  evening  robe; 

Till  on  each  land  his  critic  eye  was  cast, 

And  every  ocean  rose,  and  heav'd,  and  pass'd; 

Then,  like  some  eagle  pouncing  on  its  prey. 

He  downward  sail'd,  through  bellowing  clouds  and  spray,. 

To  where  he  saw  the  billows  bounding  free, 

And  dropped  the  gem  within  the  stormy  sea! 

And  would'st  thou  know,  Chief  of  St.  Patrick's  band, 
"Where  fell  this  jewel  from  the  seraph's  hand? 
What  ocean  caught  the  world-enriching  prize  ? 
O!  Child  of  Moina,  homeward  cast  your  eyes! 
Lo!  in  the  midst  of  wat'ry  deserts  wide. 
Behold  the  Emerald  bursting  through  the  tide, 
And  bearing  on  its  ever  vernal-sod 
The  monogram  of  seraph,  and  of  God! 

Its  name,  the  sweetest  human  lips  e'er  sung, 
First  trembled  on  an  angel's  fervid  tongue; 
Then  chimed  ^olian  on  the  evening  air. 
Lisped  by  an  infant,  in  its  mother  prayer; 


The  Emerald  Isle.  193 

Next  roared  in  war,  with  battle's  flag  unfurl'd; 
Now,  gemm'd  with  glory,  gather'd  through  the  world! 
What  name!     Perfidious  Albion,  blush  with  shame: 
It  is  thy  sister's!     Erin  is  the  name! 

Once  more  the  seraph  stood  before  the  throne 

Of  dread  Omnipotence,  pensive  and  alone. 

"  "What  hast  thou  done?"  Heaven's  Monarch  sadly  sigh'd. 

"  I  dropped  the  jewel  in  the  flashing  tide," 

The  seraph  said;  but  saw  with  vision  keen 

A  mightier  angel  stalk  upon  the  scene. 

Whose  voice  like  grating  thunder  smote  his  ear 

And  taught  his  soul  the  mysteiy  of  fear. 

"  Because  thy  heart  with  impious  pride  did  swell, 

And  dared  make  better  what  thy  Grod  made  well; 

Because  thy  hand  did  fling  j^rofanely  down 

On  Earth  a  jewel  wrenched  from  Heaven's  bright  crown, 

The  Isl6  which  thine  own  fingers  did  create 

Shall  reap  a  blessing  and  a  curse  from  fate!  " 

THE    CURSE. 

Far  in  the  future,  as  the  years  roll  on, 
And  all  the  pagan  ages  shall  have  flown; 
When  Christian  virtues,  flaming  into  light. 
Shall  save  the  world  from  superstition's  night; 
Erin,  oppress'd,  shall  bite  the  tyrant's  heel. 
And  for  a  thousand  years  enslaved  shall  kneel; 
Her  sons  shall  perish  in  the  field  and  flood, 
Her  daughters  starve  in  city,  wold,  and  wood; 
Her  patriots,  with  their  blood,  the  block  shall  stain, 
Her  matrons  fly  behind  the  Western  main; 
Harpies  from  Albion  shall  her  strength  consume, 
And  thorns  and  thistles  in  her  gardens  bloom. 
But,  curse  of  curses  thine-,  0 !  fated  land : 
Traitors  shall  thrive  where  statesmen  ought  to  stand ! 
13 


194  Caxton  s  Book. 

THE    BLESSING. 

But  past  lier  heritage  of  woe  and  pain, 
A  far  more  blest  millennium  shall  reign; 
Seedlings  of  heroes  shall  her  exiles  be, 
Where'er  they  find  a  home  beyond  the  sea; 
Bright  paragons  of  beauty  and  of  truth. 
Her  maidens  all  shall  dazzle  in  their  youth; 
And  when  age  comes,  to  dim  the  flashing  eye, 
Still  gems  of  virtue  shall  they  live,  and  die! 
No  braver  race  shall  breathe  beneath  the  sun 
Than  thine,  O !  Erin,  ere  the  goal  be  won. 

Wherever  man  shall  battle  for  the  right, 
There  shall  thy  sons  fall  thickest  in  the  fight; 
Wherever  man  shall  perish  to  be  free. 
There  shall  thy  martyrs  foremost  be! 
And  O!  when  thy  redemption  is  at  hand. 
Soldiers  shall  swell  thy  ranks  from  every  land ! 
Heroes  shall  flock  in  thousands  to  thy  shore. 
And  swear  thy  soil  is  free  eorevermore  ! 
Then  shall  thy  harp  be  from  the  willow  torn, 
And  in  yon  giitt'ring  galaxy  be  borne ! 
Then  shall  the  Emerald  change  its  verdant  crest, 
And  blaze  a  Star  co-equal  with  the  rest! 

The  sentence  pass'd,  the  doomsman  felt  surjmse, 
Eor  tears  were  streaming  from  the  seraph's  eyes. 

"  Weep  not  for  Erin,"  once  again  he  spoke, 
"  But  for  thyself,  that  did'st  her  doom  provoke; 
I  bear  a  message,  seraph,  unto  thee. 
As  unrelenting  in  its  stern  decree. 
For  endless  years  it  is  thy  fate  to  stand, 
The  chosen  guardian  of  the  Shamrock  land. 
Three  times,  as  ages  wind  their  coils  away. 
I'OGirnate  on  yon  Island  shalt  thou  stray. 


The  E7nerald  Isle.  195 

"First  as  a  Saint,  in  majesty  divine, 

The  world  shall  know  thee  by  this  j^otent  sign: 

From  yonder  soil,  where  jDois'nous  re^Dtiles  dwell, 

Thy  voice  shall  snake  and  slimy  toad  expel. 

Next  as  a  Martyr,  pleading  in  her  cause, 

Thy  blood  shall  flow  to  build  up  Albion's  laws. 

Last  as  a  Proj^het  and  a  Bard  combined, 

Rebellion's  fires  shall  mould  thy  patriot  mind. 

In  that  great  day,  when  Briton's  strength  shall  fail, 

And  all  her  glories  shiver  on  the  gale; 

When  winged  chariots,  rushing  through  the  sky. 

Shall  drop  their  faggots,  blazing  as  they  fly, 

Thy  form  shall  tower,  a  hero  'midst  the  flames. 

And  add  one  more  to  Erin's  deathless  names ! " 

Exiles  of  Erin!  gathered  here  in  state. 
Such  is  the  story  of  your  country's  fate. 
Six  thousand  years  in  strife  have  rolled  away, 
Since  Erin  sprang  from  billowy  surf  and  spray; 
In  that  drear  lapse,  her  sons  have  never  known 
One  ray  of  peace  to  gild  her  crimson  zone. 
Cast  back  your  glance  athwart  the  tide  of  years, 
Behold  each  billow  steejjed  with  Erin's  tears, 
Inspect  each  drop  that  swells  the  mighty  flood. 
Its  purple  globules  smoke  with  human  blood! 

Come  with  me  now,  and  trace  the  seraph's  path, 
That  has  been  trodden  since  his  day  of  wrath. 
Lo !  in  the  year  when  Attila  the  Hun 
Had  half  the  world  in  terror  overrun. 
On  Erin's  shore  there  stood  a  noble  youth, 
The  breath  of  honor  and  the  torch  of  truth. 
His  was  the  tongue  that  taught  the  Celtic  soul 
Christ  was  its  Saviour,  Heaven  was  its  goal! 
His  was  the  hand  that  drove  subdued  away, 
The  venom  horde  that  lured  but  to  betray; 


196  Caxtori  s  Book. 

His  were  the  feet  tliat  sanctified  the  sod, 
Erin  redeemed,  and  gave  her  back  to  God! 
The  gray  old  Earth  can  boast  no  purer  fame 
Than  that  whose  halos  gild  St.  Patrick's  name! 

Twelve  times  the  centuries  builded  up  their  store 
Of  plots,  rebellions,  gibbets,  tears  and  gore; 
Twelve  times  centennial  annivers'ries  came, 
To  bless  the  seraph  in  St.  Patrick's  name. 
In  that  long  night  of  treach'ry  and  gloom, 
How  many  myriads  found  a  martyr's  tomb! 
Beside  the  waters  of  the  dashing  Rhone 
In  exile  starved  the  bold  and  blind  Tyrone. 
Beneath  the  glamour  of  the  tyrant's  steel 
"Went  out  in  gloom  the  soul  of  great  O'Neill. 
What  countless  thousands,  children  of  her  loin, 
Sank  unanneal'd  beneath  the  bitter  Boyne ! 
What  fathers  fell,  what  mothers  sued  in  vain, 
In  Tredah's  walls,  on  Wexford's  gory  plain. 
When  Cromwell's  shaven  panders  slaked  their  lust. 
And  Ireton's  fiends  despoiled  the  breathless  dust! 

Still  came  no  seraph,  incarnate  in  man, 

To  rescue  Erin  from  the  bandit  clan. 

Still  sad  and  lone,  she  languished  in  her  chains, 

That  clank'd  in  chorus  o'er  her  martyrs'  manes. 

At  length,  when  Freedom's  struggle  was  begun 
Across  the  seas,  by  conq'ring  Washington, 
When  CuRRAN  thunder'd,  and  when  Grattan  spoke. 
The  guardian  seraph  from  his  slumber  woke. 
Then  guilty  Norbury  from  his  vengeance  fled, 
Fitzgerald  fought,  and  glorious  Wolfe  Tone  bled. 
Then  Emmet  rose,  to  start  the  battle-cry. 
To  strike,  to  plead,  to  threaten,  and  to  die ! 
Immortal  Emmet!  happier  in  thy  doom. 
Though  uninscrib'd  remains  thy  seraph  tomb, 


The  Emerald  Isle.  197 

Than  the  long  line  of  Erin's  scepter'd  foes, 
Whose  bones  in  proud  mausoleums  repose; 
More  noble  blood  through  Emmet's  pulses  rings 
Than  courses  through  ten  thousand  hearts  of  kings! 

Thus  has  the  seraph  twice  redeem'd  his  fate, 
And  roamed  a  mortal  through  this  low  estate; 
Again  obedient  to  divine  command, 
His  final  incarnation  is  at  hand. 

THE     PROPHECY. 

Scarce  shall  yon  sun^t;e  tvme&  renew  the  year, 

Ere  Erin's  guardian  Angel  shall  appear. 

Not  as  a  priest,  in  holy  garb  arrayed; 

Not  as  a  patriot,  by  his  cause  betray'd. 

Shall  he  again  assume  a  mortal  guise. 

And  tread  the  earth,  an  exile  from  the  skies. 

But  like  the  lightning  from  the  welkin  hurl'd. 

His  eye  shall  light,  his  step  shall  shake  the  world ! 

Ye  sons  of  Erin!  from  your  slumbers  start! 

Eeel  ye  no  vengeance  burning  in  your  heart  ? 

Are  ye  but  scions  of  degenerate  slaves? 

Shall  tyrants  spit  upon  your  fathers'  graves  ? 

Is  all  the  life-blood  stagnant  in  your  veins  ? 

Love  ye  no  music  but  the  clank  of  chains  ? 

Hear  ye  no  voices  ringing  in  the  air. 

That  chant  in  chorus  wild.  Prepare,  prepare! 

Hark!  on  the  winds  there  comes  a  prophet  sound, — 

The  blood  of  Abel  crying  from  the  ground, — 

Pealing  in  tones  of  thunder  through  the  world, 

"  Arm!  Arm!     The  Flag  of  Erin  is  unfurl'd!" 


*o 


On  some  bold  headland  do  I  seem  to  stand. 
And  watch  the  billows  breaking  'gainst  the  land; 
Not  in  lone  rollers  do  their  waters  j^our, 
But  the  vast  ocean  rushes  to  the  shore. 


198 


Caxton  s  Book. 


So  flock  in  millions  sons  of  honest  toil, 
From  ev'ry  country,  to  their  native  soil; 
Exiles  of  Erin,  driven  from  her  sod. 
By  foes  of  justice,  mercy,  man,  and  God! 
iErial  chariots  spread  their  snowy  wings. 
And  drop  torpedoes  in  the  halls  of  kings. 
On  every  breeze  a  thousand  banners  fly. 
And  Erin's  seraph  swells  the  battle-cry: — 
"Strike!  till  the  Unicorn  shall  lose  the  crown! 


Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 


till  the  Eagle  tears  the  Lion  down ! 

till  proud  Albion  bows  her  haughty  head! 

for  the  living  and  the  martyr'd  dead! 

for  the  bones  that  fill  your  mothers'  graves ! 

till  your  kindred  are  no  longer  slaves ! 

till  fair  Freedom  on  the  world  shall  smile ! 


For  God !  for  Truth !  and  foe  the  Emerald  Isle  !" 


XIII. 

THE  EARTH'S  HOT  CENTER. 

THE  following  extracts  from  the  report  of  the  Hon. 
John  Flaunagan,  United  States  Consul  at  Bruges, 
in  Belgium,  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  published  in  the 
Washington  City  Telegraph  of  a  late  date,  will  fully 
explain  what  is  meant  by  the  "  Great  Scare  in  Belgium." 
Our  extracts  are  not  taken  continuously,  as  the  entire 
document  would  be  too  voluminous  for  our  pages.  But 
where  breaks  appear  we  have  indicated  the  hiatus  in  the 
usual  manner  by  asterisks,  or  by  brief  explanations. 

GEN.    FLANNAGAn's     KEPOKT. 

Bruges,  December  12,  1872. 
To  THE  Hon.  Hamilton  Fish, 

Secretary  of  State. 

Sir:  In  pursuance  of  special  instructions  recentlj^  received 
from  Washington  (containing  inclosures  from  Prof.  Henry 
pf  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  and  Prof.  Lovering  of  Har- 
vard), I  proceeded  on  Wednesday  last  to  the  scene  of 
operations  at  the  "International  Exploring  Works,"  and 
beg  leave  to  submit  the  following  circumstantial  report : 

Before  joroceeding  to  detail  the  actual  state  of  affairs  at 
Dudzeele,  near  the  line  of  canal  connecting  Bruges  with 
the  Noi-th  Sea,  it  may  not  be  out  of  jolace  -to  furnish  a 
succinct  history  of  the  origin  of  the  explorations  out  of 
which  the  present  alarming  events  have  arisen.  It  will  be 
remembered  by  the  State  Department  that  during  the  short 
interregnum  of  the  provisional  government  of  France,  under 
Lamartine  and  Cavaignac,  in  1848,  a  proposition  was  sub- 
mitted by  France  to  the  governments  of  the  United  States, 
Great  Britain  and  Russia,  and  which   was   subsequently 


200  Caxton  s  Book. 

it 

extended  to  King  Leopold  of  Belgium,  to  create  an  "Inter- 
national Board  for  Subterranean  Exploration"  in  further- 
ance of  science,  and  in  order,  primarily,  to  test  the  truth 
of  the  theory  of  igneous  central  fusion,  first  propounded  by 
Leibnitz,  and  afterward  embraced  by  most  of  contemporary 
geologists;  but  also  with  the  further  objects  of  ascertaining 
the  magnetic  condition  of  the  earth's  crust,  the  variations 
of  the  needle  at  great  depths,  and  finally  to  set  at  rest  the 
doubts  of  some  of  the  English  mineralogists  concerning  the 
permanency  of  the  coal  measures,  about  which  considerable 
alarm  had  been  felt  in  all  the  manufacturing  centers  of 
Europe. 

The  protocol  of  a  quintuple  treaty  was  finally  drawn  by 
Prof.  Henry,  of  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  and  approved 
by  Sir  Roderick  Murchison,  at  that  time  President  of  the 
Eoyal  Society  of  Great  Britain.  To  this  project  Arago  lent 
the  weight  of  his  great  name,  and  Nesselrode  afiixed  the 
approval  of  Russia,  it  being  one  of  the  last  official  acts 
performed  by  that  veteran  statesman. 

The  programme  called  for  annual  appropriations  by  each 
of  the  above-named  powers  of  100,000  francs  (about  $20,000 
each),  the  appointment  of  commissioners  and  a  general 
superintendent,  the  selection  of  a  site  for  prosecuting  the 
undertaking,  and  a  board  of  scientific  visitors,  consisting  of 
one  member  from  each  country. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  proceedings  for  the  first 
few  months  after  the  organization  of  the  commission.  Prof. 
Watson,  of  Chicago,  the  author  of  a  scientific  treatise  called 
"  Prairie  Geology,"  was  selected  by  President  Fillmore,  as 
the  first  representative  of  the  United  States;  Russia  sent 
Olgokoff;  France,  Ango  Jeuno;  England,  Sir  Edward 
Sabine,  the  j)resent  President  of  the  Royal  Society;  and 
Belgium,  Dr.  Secchi,  since  so  famous  for  his  spectroscopic 
observations  on  the  fixed  stars.  These  gentlemen,  after 
organizing  at  Paris,  spent  almost  an  entire  year  in  traveling 
before  a  site  for  the  scene  of  operations  was  selected. 
Finally,  on  the  10th  of  April,  1849,  the  first  ground  was 
broken  for  actual  work  at  Dudzeele,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Bruges,  in  the  Kingdom  of  Belgium. 

The  considerations  which  led  to  the  choice  of  this  locality 
were  the  following:  First,  it  was  the  most  central,  regarding 
the  capitals  of  the  parties  to  the  protocol;  secondly,  it  was 
easy  of  access  and  connected  by  rail  with  Brussels,  Paris  and 
St.  Petersburg,  and  by  line  of  steamers  with  London,  being 


The  Ear i /is  Hot   Cejiter.  201 

situated  witbiu  a  short  distance  of  the  mouth  of  the  Hond 
or  west  Scheldt;  thirdly,  and  perhaps  as  the  most  important 
consideration  of  all,  it  was  the  seat  of  the  deepest  shaft  in 
the  world,  namely,  the  old  salt  mine  at  Dudzeele,  which 
had  been  worked  from  the  time  of  the  Romans  down  to  the 
commencement  of  the  present  centuiy,  at  which  time  it  was 
-abandoned,  principally  on  account  of  the  intense  heat  at 
the  bottom  of  the  excavation,  and  which  could  not  be  en- 
tirely overcome  except  by  the  most  costly  scientific  appli- 
.ances. 

There  was  still  another  reason,  which,  in  the  estimation 
of  at  least  one  member  of  the  commission,  Prof.  Watson, 
■overrode  them  all — the  exceptional  increase  of  heat  with 
depth,  which  was  its  main  characteristic. 

The  scientific  facts  upon  which  this  great  work  was  pro- 
jected, may  be  stated  as  follows:  It  is  the  opinion  of  the 
principal  modern  geologists,  based  primarily  upon  the 
hypothesis  of  Kant  (that  the  solar  universe  was  originally 
an  immense  mass  of  incandescent  vapor  gradually  cooled 
and  hardened  after  being  thrown  off  from  the  grand  central 
body — afterward  elaborated  by  La  Place  into  the  present 
nebular  hypothesis) — that  "  the  globe  was  once  in  a  state  of 
igneous  fusion,  and  that  as  its  heated  mass  began  to  cool, 
an  exterior  crust  was  formed,  first  very  thin,  and  afterward 
gradually  increasing  until  it  attained  its  present  thickness , 
which  has  been  variously  estimated  at  from  ten  to  two  hun- 
dred miles.  During  the  process  of  gradual  refrigeration, 
some  portions  of  the  crust  cooled  more  rapidly  than  others, 
and  the  pressure  on  the  interior  igneous  mass  being  unequal, 
the  heated  matter  or  lava  burst  through  the  thinner  parts, 
and  caused  high-peaked  mountains;  the  same  cause  also 
producing  all  volcanic  action."  The  arguments  in  favor  of 
this  doctrine  are  almost  innumerable;  these  are  among  the 
most  prominent: 

First.  The  form  of  the  earth  is  just  that  which  an  igneous 
liquid  mass  would  assume  if  thrown  into  an  orbit  with  an 
axial  revolution  similar  to  that  of  our  earth.  Not  many 
years  ago  Professor  Faraday,  assisted  by  Wheatstone,  de- 
vised a  most  ingenious  apparatus  by  which,  in  the  labor- 
atory of  the  Eoyal  Society,  he  actually  was  enabled,  by 
injecting  a  flame  into  a  vacuum,  to  exhibit  visibly  all  the 
phenomena  of  the  formation  of  the  solar  universe,  as  con- 
tended for  by  La  Place  and  by  Humboldt  in  his  "  Cosmos. " 

Secondly.  It  is  perfectly  well  ascertained  that  heat  in- 


202  Caxtoji  s  Book. 

creases  with  depth,  in  all  subterranean  excavations.  This;- 
is  the  invariable  rule  in  mining  shafts,  and  preventive- 
measures  must  always  be  devised  and  used,  by  means  gener- 
ally of  air  apparatus,  to  temper  the  heat  as  the  depth 
is  augmented,  else  deep  mining  would  have  to  be  aban- 
doned. The  rate  of  increase  has  been  variously  estimated 
by  different  scientists  in  widely  distant  portions  of  the 
globe.  A  few  of  them  may  be  mentioned  at  this  place^. 
since  it  was  upon  a  total  miscalculation  on  this  head  that 
led  to  the  present  most  deplorable  results. 

The  editor  of  the  Journal  of  Science,  in  April,  1832,  cal- 
culated from  results  obtained  in  six  of  the  deepest  coal 
mines  in  Durham  and  Northumberland,  the  mean  rate  of 
increase  at  one  degree  of  Fahrenheit  for  a  descent  of  forty- 
four  English  feet. 

In  this  instance  it  is  iioticeable  that  the  bulb  of  the  ther- 
mometer was  introduced  into  cavities  purposely  cut  into  the- 
solid  rock,  at  depths  varying  from  two  hundred  to  nine 
hundred  feet.  The  Dolcoath  mine  in  Cornwall,  as  exam- 
ined by  Mr.  Fox,  at  the  depth  of  thirteen  hundred  and 
eighty  feet,  gave  an  average  result  of  four  degrees  for  every 
seventy-five  feet. 

Kupifer  compared  results  obtained  from  the  silver  mines-, 
in  Mexico,  Peru  and  Freiburg,  from  the  salt  wells  of: 
Saxony,  and  from  the  copper  mines  in  the  Caucasus, 
together  with  an  examination  of  the  tin  mines  of  Cornwall 
and  the  coal  mines  in  the  north  of  England,  and  found  the 
average  to  be  at  least  one  degree  of  Fahrenheit  for  every 
thirty-seven  English  feet.  Cordier,  on  the  contrary,  con- 
siders this  amount  somewhat  overstated  and  reduces  the 
general  average  to  one  degree  Centigrade  for  every  twenty- 
five  metres,  or  about  one  degree  of  Fahrenheit  for  every 
forty-five  feet  English  measure. 

Thirdly.  That  the  lavas  taken  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  when  subjected  to  chemical  analysis,  indicate  that 
they  all  proceed  from  a  common  source;  and 

Fourthly.     On  no  other  hypothesis  can  we   account  for- 
the  change  of  climate  indicated  by  fossils. 

The  rate  of  increase  of  heat  in  the  Dudzeele  shaft  was  no- 
less  than  one  degree  Fahrenheit  for  every  thirty  feet  Eng- 
lish measure. 

At  the  time  of  recommencing  sinking  in  the  shaft  on  the- 
10th  of  April,  1849,  the  perpendicular  dej^th  was  twenty- 
three  hundred  and  seventy  feet,  the  thermometer  markings 


The  EartJi  s  Hot  Ce7iter.  20 


o 


forty-eight  degrees  Fahrenheit  at  the  surface;  this  would 
give  tlie  enormous  heat  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-seveu 
degrees  Fahrenheit  at  the  bottom  of  the  mine.  Of  course, 
without  ventilation  no  human  being  could  long  survive  in. 
such  an  atmosphere,  and  the  first  o^Derations-of  the  com- 
mission were  directed  to  remedy  this  inconvenience. 

The  report  then  proceeds  to  give  the  details  of  a 
very  successful  contrivance  for  forcing  air  into  the 
shaft  at  the  greatest  depths,  only  a  portion  of  which  do 
we  deem  it  important  to  quote,  as  follows : 

The  width  of  the  Moer-Vater,  or  Lieve,  at  this  point, 
was  ten  hundred  and  eighty  yards,  and  spanned  by  an  old 
bridge,  the  stone  piers  of  which  were  very  near  together, 
having  been  built  by  the  emjDeror  Hadrian  in  the  early  part 
of  the  second  century.  The  rise  of  the  tide  in  the  North 
Sea,  close  at  hand,  was  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  feet,  thus 
producing  a  current  almost  as  rapid  as  that  of  the  Mersey 
at  Liverpool.  The  commissioners  determined  to  utilize 
this  force,  in  j^reference  to  the  erection  of  expensive  steam 
works  at  the  mouth  of  the  mine.  A  plan  was  submitted 
by  Cyrus  W.  Field,  and  at  once  adojDted.  Turbine  wheels 
■^vere  built,  covering  the  space  betwixt  each  arch,  movable, 
and  adajDted  to  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  tide.  Gates  were 
also  constructed  between  each  arch,  and  a  head  of  water, 
ranging  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  fall,  provided  for  each  turn 
of  the  tide — both  in  the  ebb  and  the  flow,  so  that  there 
should  be  a  continuous  motion  to  the  machinery.  Near  the 
mouth  of  the  shaft  two  large  boiler-iron  reservoirs  Avere 
constructed,  capable  of  holding  from  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  to  two  hundred  thousand  cubic  feet  of  compressed 
air,  the  average  rate  of  condensation  being  about  two  hun- 
dred atmospheres.  These  reservoirs  were  properly  con- 
nected with  the  pumping  apparatus  of  the  bridge  by  large 
cast-iron  mains,  so  that  the  supply  was  continuous,  and  at 
an  almost  nominal  cost.  It  was  by  the  same  power  of 
compressed  air  that  the  tunneling  through  Mount  St.  Goth- 
ard  was  effected  for  the  Lyons  and  Turin  Kailway,  just 
completed. 

The  first  operations  were  to  enlarge  the  shaft  so  as  to 
form  an  opening  forty  by  one  hundred  feet,  English  meas- 
ure.    This  consumed  the  greater  part  of  the  year  1849,  so- 


204  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

that  tlie   real  work  of  sinking  was  not  fairly  under  way 
until  early  in   1850.     But  from  that  jDeriod  down  to  the 
memorable  5tb  of  November,  1872,  the  excavation  steadily 
progressed.     I  neglected  to  state  at  the  outset  that  M.  Jean 
Dusoloy,   the  State  engineer  of   Belgium,  was   api^ointed 
General  Superintendent,  and  continued  to  fill  that  impor- 
tant office  until  he  lost  his  life,  on  the  morning  of  the  6th 
of  November,  the  melancholly  details  of  which  are  herein- 
after fully  narrated. 
_  As  the  deepening  progressed  the  heat  of  the  bottom  con- 
tinued to  increase,  but  it  was  soon  observed  in  a  different 
ratio  from  the  calculations  of  the  experts.     After  attaining 
the  depth  of  fifteen  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
—about  the  height  of  Mt.  Blanc — which  was  reached  early 
in  1864,  it  was  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  the  laws  of 
temperature  and  gravitation  were  synchronous;  that  is,  that 
the  heat  augmented  in  a  ratio  proportioned  to  the  square  of 
the  distance  from  the  surface  downward.     Hence  the  in- 
crease at  great  depths  bore  no  relation  at  all  to  the  appar- 
ently gradual  augmentation  near  the  surface.     As  early  as 
June,  1868,  it  became  apparent  that  the  sinking,  if  carried 
on  at  all,  would  have  to  be  protected  by  some  atheromatous 
■or  adiathermic  covering.     Professor  Tyndall  was  applied  to, 
and,  at  the  request  of  Lord  Palmerston,  made  a  vast  num- 
ber of    experiments   on    non-conducting   bodies.      As  the 
result  of  his  labors,  he  prepared  a  compound  solution  about 
the  density  of  common  white  lead,  composed  of  selenite 
alum  and  sulphate  of   copper,  which  was  laid  on  three  or 
four  thicknesses,  first  upon  the  bodies  of  the  naked  miners 
— for  in  all  deep  mines  the  operatives  work  in  puris  natur- 
alibus — and  then  upon  an  oval-shaped  cage  made  of  papier 
mache,  with  a  false  bottom,   enclosed   within   which   the 
miners  were  enabled  to  endure  the  intense  heat  for  a  shift 
of  two  hours    each  day.     The  drilling   was   all   done   by 
means  of  the  diamond-pointed  instrument,  and  the  blasting 
by  nitro-glycerine  from  the  outset;    so  that  the  jirincijital 
labor  consisted  in  shoveling  up  the  debris  and  keeping  the 
drill-point  in  situ. 

Before  proceeding  further  it  may  not  be  improper  to  enu- 
merate a  few  of  the  more  important  scientific  facts  which, 
up  to  the  1st  of  November  of  the  past  year,  had  been  satis- 
factorily established.  First  in  importance  is  the  one 
alluded  to  above — the  rate  of  increase  of  temperature  as  we 
•descend  into   the  bowels  of  the   earth.     This  law,  shown 


The  Earth's  Hot  Center.  205 

above  to  correspond  exactly  with  the  law  of  attraction  ox' 
gravitation,  had  been  entirely  overlooked  by  all  the  scien- 
tists, liviug  or  dead.  No  one  had  for  a  moment  suspected 
that  heat  followed  the  universal  law  of  physics  as  a  material 
body  ought  to  do,  simply  because,  from  the  time  of  De 
Saussure,  heat  had  been  regarded  only  as  a  force  or  I'is  viva 
and  not  as  a  ponderable  quality. 

But  not  only  was  heat  found  to  be  subject  to  the  law 
of  inverse  ratio  of  the  square  of  the  distance  from  the  sur- 
face, but  the  amosiDhere  itself  followed  the  same  invariable 
rule.  Thus,  while  we  know  that  water  boils  at  the  level  of 
the  sea  at  two  hundred  and  twelve  degrees  Fahrenheit,  it 
readily  vaj^orizes  at  one  hundred  and  eighty-five  degrees  on 
the  peak  of  Teneriffe,  only  fifteen  thousand  feet  above  that 
level.  This,  we  know,  is  owing  to  the  weight  of  the  super- 
incumbent atmosphere,  there  being  a  heavier  burden  at  the 
surface  than  at  any  height  above  it.  The  rate  of  decrease 
above  the  surface  is  perfectly  regular,  being  one  degree  for 
every  five  hundred  and  ninety  feet  of  ascent.  But  the 
amazing  fact  was  shown  that  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere 
increased  in  a  ratio  proportioned  to  the  square  of  the  dis- 
tance downward The  magnetic  needle 

also  evinced  some  curious  disturbance,  the  dip  being  inva- 
riably upward.  Its  action  also  was  exceedingly  feeble,  and 
the  day  before  the  oj^erations  ceased  it  lost  all  polarity 
whatever,  and  the  finest  magnet  would  not  meander  from 
the  point  of  the  compass  it  happened  to  be  left  at  for  the 
time  being.  As  Sir  Edward  Sabine  finely  said,  "  The  hands- 
of  the  magnetic  clock  stopped."  But  the  activity  of  the 
needle  gradually  increased  as  the  surface  was  approached. 

All  electrical  action  also  ceased,  which  fully  confirms  the 
theory,  of  Professor  Faraday,  that  "electricity  is  a  force 
generated  by  the  rapid  axial  revolution  of  the  earth,  and  that 
magnetic  attraction  in  all  cases  points  or  operates  at  right 
angles  to  its  current."  Hence  electricity,  from  the  nature 
of  its  cause,  must  be  superficial. 

Every  appearance  of  water  disappeared  at  the  depth  of 
only  9000  feet.  From  this  dej^th  downward  the  rock  was 
of  a  basaltic  character,  haviug  not  the  slightest  appearance 
of  granite  formation — confirming,  in  a  most  remarkable 
manner,  the  discovery  made  only  last  year,  that  all  gi-anites 
are  of  aqueous,  instead  of  igneous  deposition.  As  a  corol- 
lary from  the  law  of  atmospheric  pressure,  it  was  found 
utterly  impossible  to  vaporize  water  at  a  greater  dej^th  than 


2o6  Caxto7i  s  Book. 

a 

24,000  feet,  which  point  was  reached  in  1869.  No  amount 
of  heat  affected  it  in  the  least  percej^tible  manner,  and  on 
weighing  the  liquid  at  the  greatest  depth  attained,  by  means 
of  a  nicely  adjusted  scale,  it  was  found  to  be  of  a  density 
expressed  thus:  198,073,  being  two  degrees  or  integers  of 
atomic  weight  heavier  than  gold,  at  the  surface. 

The  report  then  proceeds  to  discuss  the  question  of 
the  true  figure  of  the  earth,  whether  an  oblate  spheroid, 
iis  generally  supposed,  or  only  truncated  at  the  poles; 
the  length  of  a  degree  of  longitude  at  the  latitude  of 
Dudzeele,  51  deg.  20  min.  N.,  and  one  or  two  other 
problems.  The  concluding  portion  of  the  report  is  re- 
produced in  full. 

For  the  past  twelve  months  it  was  found  impossible  to 
endure  the  heat,  even  sheltered  as  the  miners  were  by  the 
atmospheric  cover  and  cage,  for  more  than  lifteen  minutes  at 
a,  time,  so  that  the  expense  of  sinking  had  increased  geo- 
metrically for  the  past  two  years.  However,  important 
results  had  been  obtained,  and  a  perpendicular  depth 
reached  many  thousands  of  feet  below  the  deepest  sea 
soundings  of  Lieutenant  Brooks.  In  fact,  the  enormous 
excavation,  on  the  1st  of  November,  1872,  measured  per- 
pendicularly, no  less  than  37,810  feet  and  6  inches  from  the 
ioor  of  the  shaft  building!  The  highest  peak  of  the  Him- 
'alayas  is  only  little  over  28,000  feet,  so  that  it  can  at  once 
be  seen  that  no  time  had  been  thrown  awaj  by  the  Com- 
missioners since  the  inception  of  the  undertaking,  in  Aj^ril, 
1849. 

The  first  symptoms  of  alarm  were  felt  on  the  evening  of 
November  1.  The  men  complained  of  a  vast  increase  of 
heat,  and  the  cages  had  to  be  dropped  every  five  minutes 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  night;  and  of  those  who  attempted 
to  work,  at  least  one  half  were  extricated  in  a  condition  of 
fainting,  but  one  degree  from  cyncope.  Toward  morning, 
hoar'ie,  profound  and  frequent  subterranean  explosions  were 
heard,  which  had  increased  at  noon  to  one  dull,  threatening 
and  continuous  roar.  But  the  miners  went  down  bravely 
to  theii"  tasks,  and  resolved  to  work  as  long  as  human  endur- 
ance could  bear  it.  But  this  was  not  to  be  much  longer; 
for  late  at  night,  on  the  4th,  after  hearing  a  terrible  explo- 


The  EartJi  s  Hot  Center.  207 

:sion,  -which  shook  the  whole  neighborhood,  a  hot  sirocco 
issued  from  the  bottom,  which  drove  them  all  out  in  a  state 
•of  asphyxia.  The  heat  at  the  surface  became  absolutely 
uueudurable,  and  on  sending-  do-\vn  a  cage  -with  only  a  dog 
in  it,  the  materials  of  which  it  was  composed  took  fire,  and 
the  animal  perished  in  the  flames.  At  3  o'clock  a.  m.  the 
iron  fastenings  to  another  cage  were  found  fused,  and  the 
wire  ropes  were  melted  for  more  than  lUOO  feet  at  the  other 
«ud.  The  detonations  became  more  frequent,  the  trembling 
of  the  earth  at  the  surface  more  violent,  and  the  heat  more 
■oppressive  around  the  mouth  of  the  orifice.  A  few  minutes 
before  4  o'clock  a  subterranean  crash  was  heard,  louder  than 
Alpine  thunder,  and  immediately  afterward  a  furious  cloud 
of  ashes,  smoke  and  gaseous  exhalation  shot  high  up  into 
the  still  darkened  atmosphere  of  night.  At  this  time  at  least 
one  thousand  of  the  terrified  and  half-naked  inhabitants  of 
the  neighboring  village  of  Dudzeele  had  collected  on  the 
spot,  and  with  wringing  hands  and  fearful  outcries  bewailed 
their  fate,  and  threatened  instant  death  to  the  officers  of  the 
<3om mission,  and  even  to  the  now  terrified  miners.  Finally, 
just  before  dawn,  on  the  5th  of  November,  or,  to  be  more 
precise,  at  exactly  twenty  minutes  past  6  a.  m.,  molten  lava 
made  its  apjDearance  at  the  surface ! 

The  fright  now  became  general,  and  as  thelrarning  build- 
ings shed  their  ominous  glare  around,  and  the  languid 
.stream  of  liquid  fire  slowly  bubbled  up  and  rolled  toward 
the  canal,  the  scene  assumed  an  aspect  of  awful  sublimity 
and  grandeur.  The  plains  around  were  lit  up  for  many 
leagues,  and  the  foggy  skies  intensified  and  reduj^licated 
the  effects  of  the  illumination.  Toward  sunrise  the  How 
of  lava  was  susjjended  for  nearly  an  hour,  but  shortly  after 
ten  o'clock  it  suddenly  increased  its  volume,  and,  as  it 
■cooled,  formed  a  sort  of  saucer-shaped  funnel,  over  the 
-edges  of  which  it  boiled  ujd,  broke,  and  ran  off  in  every 
•direction.  It  was  at  this  period  that  the  accomplished 
Dusoloy,  so  long  the  Superintendent,  lost  his  life.  As  the 
lava  slowly  meandered  along,  he  attempted  to  cross  the 
stream  by  stepjnng  from  one  mass  of  surface  cinders  to 
another.  Making  a  false  step,  the  floating  rock  upon  which 
he  sprang  suddenly  turned  over,  and  before  relief  could  l)e 
afforded  his  body  was  consumed  to  a  crisp.  I  regret  to  add 
that  bis  fate  kindled  no  symi)athy  among  the  assembled 
multitude;  but  they  rudely  seized  his  mutilated  remains, 
and  amid  jeers,  execrations,  and  shouts  of  triumph,  attached 


2o8  Caxtons  Book. 

a  large  stone  to  the  half-consumed  corpse  and  precipitated 
it  into  the  canal.  Thus  are  the  heroes  of  science  frequently- 
sacrificed  to  the  fury  of  a  plebeian  mob. 

It  would  afford  me  a  j)leasure  to  inform  the  department 
that  the  unforeseen  evils  of  our  scientific  convention  ter- 
minated here.  But  I  regret  to  add  that  such  is  very  far  from 
being  the  case.  Indeed,  from  the  appearance  of  affairs 
this  morning  at  the  volcanic  crater — for  such  it  has  now 
become — the  possible  evils  are  almost  incalculable.  The 
Belgian  Government  was  duly  notified  by  telegraph  of  the 
death  of  the  Superintendent  and  the  mutinous  disposition 
of  the  common  peojole  about  Bruges,  and  early  on  the 
morning  of  the  6th  of  November  a  squad  of  flying  horse 
was  dispatched  to  the  spot  to  maintain  order.  But  this 
interference  only  made  matters  worse.  The  discontent,  aug- 
mented by  the  wildest  panic,  became  universal,  and  the 
mob  reigned  supreme.  Nor  could  the  poor  Avretches  be 
greatly  condemned;  for  toward  evening  the  lava  current 
reached  the  confines  of  the  old  village  of  Dudzeele,  and 
about  midnight  set  the  town  on  fire.  The  lurid  glare  of 
the  conflagration  awakened  the  old  burghers  of  Bruges, 
from  their  slumbers  and  spread  consternation  in  the  city, 
though  distant  several  miles  from  the  spot.  A  meeting  was 
called  at  the  Guildhall  at  dawn,  and  the  wildest  excite- 
ment prevailed.  But  after  hearing  explanations  from  the 
members  of  the  commission,  the  populace  quietly  but  dog- 
gedly dispersed.  The  government  from  this  time  forward 
did  all  that  power  and  prudence  combined  could  effect  to 
quell  the  reign  of  terror  around  Bruges.  In  this  country 
the  telegraph,  being  a  government  monopoly,  has  been 
rigorously  watched  and  a  cordon  of  military  posts  estab- 
lished around  the  threatened  district,  so  that  it  has  been 
almost  impossible  to  convey  intelligence  of  this  disaster 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  danger.  In  the  mean  time,  a  con- 
gress of  the  most  experienced  scientists  was  invited  to  the 
scene  for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  some  remedy  against 
the  prospective  spread  of  the  devastation.  The  first  meet- 
ing took  place  at  the  old  Guildhall  in  Bruges  and  was 
strictly  private,  none  being  admitted  except  the  diplomatic 
representatives  of  foreign  governments,  and  the  members 
elect  of  the  college.  As  in  duty  bound,  I  felt  called  on  to 
attend,  and  shall  in  this  place  attempt  a  short  synopsis  of 
the  proceedings. 


The  Earth's  Hot  Ce^tter.  209 

Professor  Palmieri,  of  Naples,  presided,  and  Dr.  Kirchoff 
officiated  as  secretary'. 

Gassiot,  of  Paris,  was  the  first  sj)eaker,  and  contended 
that  the  theory  of  nucleatic  fusion,  now  being  fully  estab- 
lished, it  only  remained  to  prescribe  the  laws  governing  its 
superficial  action.  "  There  is  but  one  law  applicable,  that 
I  am  aware  of,"  said  he,  "  and  that  is  the  law  which  di-ives 
from  the  center  of  a  revolving  body  all  fluid  matter  toward 
the  circumference,  and  forcibly  ejects  it  into  space,  if  j)os- 
sible,  in  the  same  manner  that  a  common  grindstone  in 
rapid  motion  will  drive  oft'  from  its  rim  drops  of  water  or 
other  foreign  unattached  matter.  Thus,  whenever  we  find 
a  vent  or  open  orifice,  as  in  the  ci'aters  of  active  volcanoes, 
the  incandescent  lava  boils  up  and  frequently  overflows  the 
top  of  the  highest  peak  of  the  Andes." 

Palmieri  then  asked  the  speaker  "  if  he  wished  to  be 
understood  as  expressing  the  unqualified  opinion  that  an 
orifice  once  being  opened  would  continue  to  flow  forever, 
and  that  there  was  no  law  governing  the  quantity  or  regu- 
lating the  level  to  which  it  could  rise?" 

Gassiot  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

The  Neapolitan  philosopher  then  added:  "I  dissent  in 
toto  from  the  opinion  of  M.  Gassiot.  For  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  I  have  studied  the  lava-flows  of  Vesuvius, 
^tna  and  Stromboli,  and  I  can  assure  the  Congress  that 
the  Creator  has  left  no  such  flaw  in  His  mechanism  of  the 
globe.  The  truth  is,  that  molten  lava  can  only  rise  about 
21,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  owing  to  the  balance- 
wheel  of  terrestrial  gravitation,  which  counteracts  at  that 
height  all  centrifugal  energy.  Were  this  not  so,  the  entire 
contents  of  the  globe  Avould  gush  from  the  incandescent 
center  and  fly  oft"  into  surrounding  space." 

M.  Gassiot  replied,  "  that  true  volcanoes  were  supplied  by 
nature  with  circum  valvular  lips,  and  hence,  after  filling  their 
craters,  they  ceased  to  flow.  But  in  the  insta-nee  before  us 
no  such  i:)rovision  existed,  and  the  only  protection  which  he 
could  conceive  of  consisted  in  the  smallness  of  the  orifice; 
and  he  would  therefore  recommend  his  Majesty  King  Leo- 
pold to  direct  all  his  efi'orts  to  confine  the  aperture  to  its 
jn-esent  size." 

Palmieri  again  responded,  "that  he  had  no  doubt  but 
that  the  crater  at  Dudzeele  would  continue  to  flow  until  it 
had  built  up  around  itself  basaltic  walls  to  the  height  of 
14 


2IO  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

many  liundreds,  perhaps  tbousauds,  of  feet,  and  tliat  the 
idea  of  setting  bounds  to  the  size  of  the  mouth  of  the 
excavation  was  simply  ridiculous." 

Gassiot  interrupted,  and  was  about  to  answer  in  a  very 
excited  tone,  when  Prof.  Palmieri  "disclaimed  any  inten- 
tion of  personal  insult,  but  spoke  from  a  scientific  stand- 
point." He  then  proceeded:  "The  lava  bed  of  Mount 
.^tna  maintains  a  normal  level  of  7000  feet,  while  Vesuvius 
calmly  reposes  at  a  Httle  more  than  one  half  that  altitude. 
On  the  other  hand,  according  to  Prof.  Whitney,  of  the 
Pacific  Survey,  Mount  Kilauea,  in  the  Sandwich  Islands, 
bubbles  up  to  the  enormous  height  of  17,000  feet.  It  can- 
not be  contended  that  the  crater  of  Vesuvius  is  not  a  true 
nucleatic  orifice,  because  I  have  demonstrated  that  the 
molten  bed  regularly  rises  and  falls  like  the  tides  of  the 
ocean  when  controlled  by  the  moon."  It  was  seen  at  once 
that  the  scientists  present  were  totally  unprepared  to  dis- 
cuss the  question  in  its  novel  and  most  important  aspects; 
and  on  taking  a  vote,  at  the  close  of  the  session,  the  mem- 
bers were  equally  divided  between  the  opinions  of  Gassiot 
and  Palmieri.  A  further  session  will  take  place  on  the 
arrival  of  Prof.  Tyndall,  who  has  been  telegraphed  for 
from  New  York,  and  of  the  great  Eussian  geologist  and 
astronomer,  Tugenieff. 

In  conclusion,  the  damage  already  done  may  be  summed 
up  as  follows:  The  destruction  of  the  Bruges  and  Hond 
Canal  by  the  formation  of  a  basaltic  dyke  across  it  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  wide,  the  burning  of  Dudzeele,  and 
the  devastation  of  about  thirty  thousand  acres  of  valuable 
land.  At  the  same  time  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  predict 
where  the  damage  may  stop,  inasmuch  as  early  this  morn- 
ing the  mouth  of  the  crater  had  fallen  in,  and  the  flowing 
stream  had  more  than  doubled  in  size. 

In  consideration  of  the  part  hitherto  taken  by  the  Gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States  in  originating  the  work  that 
led  to  the  catastrophe,  and  by  request  of  M.  Musenheim, 
the  Belgian  Foreign  Secretary,  I  have  taken  the  libert}'  of 
drawing  uj)on  the  State  Department  for  eighty-seven  thou- 
sand dollars,  being  the  sum  agreed  to  be  paid  for  the  cost 
"of  emigration  to  the  United  States  of  two  hundred  families 
(our  own  pro  rata)  rendered  homeless  by  the  conflagration 
of  Dudzeele. 

I  am  this  moment  in  receipt  of  your  telegram  dated  yester- 


The  Eartfi  s  Hot  Center.  211 

day,  and  rejoice  to  learn  tliat  Prof.  Agassiz  has  returned 
from  tlie  South  Seas,  and  will  be  sent  forward  without 
delay. 

With  great  respect,  I  have  the  honor  to  be  your  obedient 
servant,  t        -in 

'  John  JbLANNAOAN, 

United  States  Consul  at  Bruges. 

P.S. — Since  concluding   the   above  dispatch,  Professor 
Palmieri  did  me  the  honor  of  a  special  call,  and,  after  some 
•desultory  conversation,  apj)roached  the  all-absorbing  topic 
of  the  day,  and  cautiously  expressed  his  opinion  as  follows: 
Explaining  his  theory,  as  announced  at  the  Congress,  he 
said  that  "  Holland,  Belgium,  and  Denmark,  being  all  low 
■couDtries,  some  portions  of  each  lying  below  the  sea-level, 
he  would  not  be  surprised  if  the  present  outflow  of  lava 
devastated  them  all,  and  covered  the  bottom  of  the  North 
Sea  for  many  square  leagues  with  a  bed  of  basalt. "     The 
reason  given  was  this:  "  That  lava  must  continue  to  flow 
until,  by  its  own  action,  it  builds  up  around  the  volcanic 
orater  a  rim  or  cone  high  enough  to  afford  a  counterpoise 
io  the  centrifugal  tendency  of  axial  energy;  and  that,  as 
the  earth's  crust  was  demonstrated  to  be  exceptionally  thin 
in  the  north  of  Europe,  the  height  required  in  this  instance 
would  be  so  great  that  an  enormous  lapse  of  time  must 
■ensue  before  the  self-created  cone  could  obtain  the  neces- 
sary altitude.      Before  Jiitna  attained  its   present  secure 
heig-ht,  it  devastated  an  area  as  large  as  France;  and  Prof. 
Whitney  has  demonstrated  that  some  center  of   volcanic 
action,  now  extinct,  in  the  State  of  California,  threw  out  a 
stream  that  covered  a  much  greater  surface,  as  the  basaltic 
table  mountains,  vulgarly  so  called,  extend  north  and  south 
for  a  distance  as  great  as  from  Moscow  to  Rome."     In  con- 
cluding his  remarks,  he  ventured  the  prediction  that  "  the 
North  Sea  would  be  completely  filled  up,  and  the  British 
Islands  again  connected  with  the  Continent." 

J.  F.,  U.S.C. 


XIV. 

WILDEF'S  DREAM. 

A    BLACKSMITH  stood,  at  his  anvil  good, 
-^-*-     Just  fifty  years  ago, 
And  struck  in  bis  might,  to  the  left  and  right, 

The  iron  all  aglow. 
And  fast  and  far,  as  each  miniature  star 

Illumined  the  dusky  air, 
The  sparks  of  his  mind  left  a  halo  behind, 

Like  the  aureola  of  prayer. 

And  the  blacksmith  thought,  as  he  hammered  and  wrought,. 

Just  fifty  years  ago. 
Of  the  sins  that  start  in  the  human  heart 

When  its  metal  is  all  aglow; 
And  he  breathed  a  prayer,  on  the  evening  air, 

As  he  watched  the  fire-sparks  roll, 
That  with  hammer  and  tongs,  he  might  right  the  wrongs 

That  environ  the  human  soul! 

"When  he  leaned  on  his  sledge,  not  like  minion  or  drudge. 

With  center  in  self  alone. 
But  with  vision  so  grand,  it  embraced  every  land, 

In  the  sweep  of  its  mighty  zone; 
O'er  mountain  and  main,  o'er  forest  and  plain, 

He  gazed  from  his  swarthy  home,^ 
Till  rafter  and  wall,  grew  up  in  a  hall, 

That  covered  the  world  with  its  dome ! 


Wildey's  Dream.  213 

"Neath  that  bending  arcb,  with  a  tottering  march 

All  peoples  went  wailing  by, 
To  the  music  of  groan,  of  sob,  and  of  moan. 

To  the  grave  that  was  yawning  nigh, 
"When  the  blacksmith  rose  and  redoubled  his  blows 

On  the  iron  that  was  aglow, 
Till  his  senses  did  seem  to  dissolve  in  a  dream, 

Just  fifty  years  ago. 

He  thought  that  he  stood  upon  a  mountain  chain, 
And  gazed  across  an  almost  boundless  plain; 
Men  of  all  nations,  and  of  every  clime. 
Of  ancient  epochs,  and  of  modern  time. 
Rose  in  thick  ranks  before  his  wandering  eye, 
And  passed,  like  waves,  in  quick  succession  by. 

First  came  Osiris,  with  his  Memphian  band 

Of  swarth  Egyptians,  darkening  all  the  land; 

"With  heads  downcast  they  dragged  their  limbs  along, 

Laden  with  chains,  and  torn  by  lash  and  thong. 

From  morn  till  eve  they  toiled  and  bled  and  died. 

And  stained  with  blood  the  Nile's  encroaching  tide. 

Slowly  upon  the  Theban  plain  there  rose 

Old  Cheop's  pride,  a  pyramid  of  woes; 

And  millions  sank  unpitied  in  their  graves, 

"With  tombs  inscribed — "  Here  lies  a  realm  of  slaves." 

Next  came  great  Nimrod  prancing  on  his  steed, 

His  serried  ranks,  Assyrian  and  Mede, 

By  bold  Sennacherib  moulded  into  one. 

By  bestial  Sardanapalus  undone. 

He  saw  the  walls  of  Babylon  arise. 

Spring  from  the  earth,  invade  the  azure  skies, 

And  bear  upon  their  airy  ramparts  old 

Gardens  and  vines,  and  fruit,  and  flowers  of  gold. 

Beneath  their  cold  and  insalubrious  shade 

All  woes  and  vices  had  their  coverts  made; 


2  14  Caxton  s  Book. 

Lascivious  incest  o'er  the  land  was  sown, 
From  peasant  cabin  to  imperial  throne, 
And  that  proud  realm,  so  full  of  might  and  fame. 
Went  down  at  last  in  blood,  and  sin,  and  shame. 

Then  came  the  Persian,  with  his  vast  array 

Of  armed  millions,  fretting  for  the  fray, 

Led  on  by  Xerxes  and  his  harlot  horde, 

Where  billows  swallowed,  and  where  battle  roared. 

On  every  side  there  rose  a  bloody  screen. 

Till  mighty  Alexander  closed  the  scene. 

Behold  that  warrior!  in  his  pomp  and  pride. 

Dash  through  the  world,  and  over  myriads  ride; 

Plant  his  proud  pennon  on  the  Grangean  stream. 

Pierce  where  the  tigers  hide,  mount  where  the  eagles  scream. 

And  happy  only  amid  war's  alarms. 

The  clank  of  fetters,  and  the  clash  of  arms; 

And  moulding  man  by  battle-fields  and  blows. 

To  one  foul  mass  of  furies,  fiends  and  foes. 

Such,  too,  the  Roman,  vanquishing  mankind. 

Their  fields  to  ravage,  and  their  limbs  to  bind; 

Whose  proudest  troi^hy,  and  whose  highest  good, 

To  write  his  fame  with  pencil  dipped  in  blood; 

To  stride  the  world,  like  Ocean's  turbid  waves, 

And  sink  all  nations  into  servient  slaves. 

As  passed  the  old,  so  modern  realms  swej)t  by, 
Woe  in  all  hearts,  and  tears  in  every  eye; 
Crimes  stained  the  noble,  famine  crushed  the  poor; 
Poison  for  kings,  oj^pression  for  the  boor; 
Force  by  the  mighty,  fraud  by  the  feebler  shown; 
Mercy  a  myth,  and  charity  unknown. 

The  Dreamer  sighed,  for  sorrow  filled  his  breast; 
Turned  from  the  scene  and  sank  to  deeper  rest. 
"Come!"  cried  a  low  voice  full  of  music  sweet, 
"Come!"  and  an  angel  touched  his  trembling  feet. 


Wildey  s  Dream.  215 

Down  the  steep  hills  they  wend  their  toilsome  way, 
Cross  the  vast  plain  that  on  their  journey  lay; 
Gain  the  dark  city,  through  its  suburbs  roam, 
And  pause  at  length  within  the  dreamer's  home. 

Again  he  stood  at  his  anvil  good 

With  an  angel  by  his  side, 
And  rested  his  sledge  on-  its  iron  edge 

And  blew  up  his  bellows  wide; 
He  kindled  the  flame  till  the  white  heat  came, 

Then  murmured  in  accent  low : 
' '  All  ready  am  I  your  bidding  to  try 

So  far  as  a  mortal  may  go," 

'Midst  the  heat  and  the  smoke  the  angel  spoke, 

And  breathed  in  his  softest  tone, 
"  Heaven  caught  up  your  prayer  on  the  evening  air 

As  it  mounted  toward  the  throne. 
God  weaveth  no  task  for  mortals  to  ask 

Beyond  a  mortal's  control. 
And  with  hammer  and  tongs  you  shall  right  the  wrongs 

That  encompass  the  human  soul. 

"  But  go  you  first  forth  'mong  the  sons  of  the  earth. 

And  bring  me  a  human  heart 
That  throbs  for  its  kind,  spite  of  weather  and  wind, 

And  acts  still  a  brother's  part. 
The  night  groweth  late,  but  here  will  I  wait 

Till  dawn  streak  the  eastern  skies; 
And  lest  you  should  fail,  spread  iny  wings  on  the  gale, 

And  search  with  my  angel  eyes." 

The  dreamer  once  more  passed  the  open  door. 

But  plumed  for  an  angel's  flight; 
He  sped  through  the  world  like  a  thunderbolt  hurled 

When  the  clouds  are  alive  with  light; 


2 1 6  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

He  followed  the  sun  till  his  race  was  won, 

And  probed  every  heart  and  mind; 
But  in  every  zone  man  labored  alone 

For  himself  and  not  for  his  kind. 

All  mournful  and  flushed,  his  dearest  hopes  crushed, 

The  dreamer  returned  to  his  home, 
And  stood  in  the  flare  of  the  forge's  red  glare, 

Besprinkled  with  dew  and  foam. 
"  The  heart  you  have  sought  must  be  tempered  and  taught 

In  the  flame  that  is  all  aglow." 
"  No  heart  could  I  find  that  was  true  to  its  kind, 

So  I  left  all  the  world  in  its  woe." 

Then  the  stem  angel  cried:  "  In  your  own  throbbing  side 

Beats  a  heart  that  is  sound  to  the  core; 
Will  you  give  your  own  life  to  the  edge  of  the  knife 

For  the  widowed,  the  orphaned,  and  poor?" 
"  Most  unAvorthy  am  I  for  my  brothers  to  die, 

And  sinful  my  sorrowing  heart; 
But  strike,  if  you  will,  to  redeem  or  to  kill. 

With  life  I  am  willing  to  part." 

Then  he  threw  ope  his  vest  and  bared  his  broad  breast 

To  the  angel's  glittering  blade; 
Soon  the  swift  purple  tide  gushed  a  stream  red  and  wide 

From  the  wound  that  the  weapon  had  made. 
With  a  jerk  and  a  start  he  then  plucked  out  his  heart, 

And  buried  it  deep  in  the  flame 
That  flickered  and  fell  like  the  flashes  of  hell 

O'er  the  dreamer's  quivering  frame. 

"  Now  with  hammer  and  tongs  you  may  right  all  the  wrongs 

That  environ  the  human  soul; 
But  first,  you  must  smite  with  a  Yulcan's  might 

The  heart  in  yon  blistering  bowl." 


\ 


Wildey  s  Dream.  2  1 7 

"Quick  the  blacksmith  arose,  and  redoubling  his  blows, 

Beat  the  heart  that  was  all  aglow, 
'Till  its  fieiy  scars  like  a  shower  of  stars 

Illumined  the  night  with  their  flow. 

Every  sling  of  his  sledge  reopened  the  edge 

Of  wounds  that  were  healed  long  ago; 
And  from  each  livid  chasm  leaped  forth  a  phantasm 

Of  passion,  of  sin,  or  of  woe. 
But  he  heeded  no  pain  as  he  hammered  amain, 

For  the  angel  was  holding  the  heart, 
-And  cried  at  each  blow,  "  Strike  high!"  or  "  Strike  low!" 

"  Strike  hither!"  or  "Yonder  apart!" 

So  he  hammered  and  wrought,  and  he  toiled  and  fought 

Till  Aurora  peeped  over  the  plain; 
"When  the  angel  flew  by  and  ascended  the  sky, 

Bu.1  left  on  the  anvil  a  chain  ! 
Its  links  were  as  bright  as  heaven's  own  light, 

As  pure  as  the  fountain  of  youth; 
^nd  bore  on  each  fold  in  letters  of  gold. 

This  token — Love,  Fkiendship  and  Truth. 

The  dreamer  awoke,  and  peered  through  the  smoke 

At  the  anvil  that  slej^t  by  his  side; 
And  then  in  a  wreath  of  flower-bound  sheath, 

The  triple-linked  chain  he  espied. 
Odd  Fellowship's  gem  is  that  bright  diadem. 

Our  emblem  in  age  and  in  youth; 
Tor  our  hearts  we  must  j^rove  in  the  fire  of  Love, 

And  mould  with  the  hammer  of  Truth. 


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XV. 

WHITHER  WARD. 

BY  pursuing  the  analogies  of  nature,  tlie  human? 
mind  reduces  to  order  the  vagaries  of  the  imagi- 
nation, and  bodies  them  forth  in  forms  of  loveliness  and, 
in  similitudes  of  heaven. 

By  an  irrevocable  decree  of  Nature's  God,  all  his  works- 
are  progressive  in  the  direction  of  himself.  This  law 
is  traceable  from  the  molehill  up  to  the  mountain, 
from  the  mite  up  to  the  man.  Geology,  speaking  to  us 
from  the  depths  of  a  past  eternity,  from  annals  inscribed 
upon  the  imperishable  rock,  utters  not  one  syllable  ta 
contradict  this  tremendous  truth.  Millions  of  ages  ago, 
she  commenced  her  impartial  record,  and  as  we  unroll 
it  to-day,  from  the  coal-bed  and  the  marble  quarry,  we 
read  in  creation's  dav>'n  as  plainly  as  we  behold  in 
operation  around  us,  the  mighty  decree — Onward  and 
Upward,  Forever! 

In  the  shadowy  past  this  majestic  globe  floated 
through  the  blue  ether,  a  boiling  flood  of  lava.  The 
elements  were  then  unborn.  Time  was  not;  for  as  yet 
the  golden  laws  of  Kepler  had  not  emerged  from  chaos.. 
The  sun  had  not  hemmed  his  bright-eyed  daughters  in, 
nor  marked  out  on  the  azure  concave  the  paths  they 
were  to  tread.  The  planets  were  not  worlds,  but  shot 
around  the  lurid  center  liquid  masses  of  flame  and  des- 


Whitherward.  219- 

olation.     Comets  sported  at  random  through  the  sky^ 
and  trailed  after  them  their  horrid  skirts  of  fire.     The- 
Spirit  of  God  had  not  "moved  upon  the  face  of  the- 
waters,"  and  rosy  Chaos  still  held  the  scepter  in  his- 
hand.     But  changes  were  at  work.     As  the  coral  worm 
toils  on  in  the  unfathomable  depths  of  ocean,  laying  in? 
secret  the  foundations  of  mighty  continents,  destined- 
as  the  ages  roll  by  to  emerge  into  light  and  grandeur^ 
so  the  laws  of  the  universe  carried  on  their  everlasting: 
work. 

An  eternity  elapsed,  and  the  age  of  fire  passed  away. 
A  new  era  dawned  upon  the  earth.  The  gases  were- 
generated,  and  the  elements  of  air  and  water  overspread 
the  globe.  Islands  began  to  appear,  at  first  presenting: 
pinnacles  of  bare  and  blasted  granite;  but  gradually,  by 
decay  and  decomposition,  changing  into  dank  marshes- 
and  fertile  plains. 

One  after  another  the  sensational  universe  now  springs 
into  being.  This  but  prepared  the  way  for  the  animated, 
and  that  in  turn  formed  the  ground^vork  and  basis  for 
the  human.  Man  then  came  forth,  the  result  of  all  her 
previous  efforts — nature's  pet,  her  paragon  and  her 
pride. 

Keason  sits  enthroned  upon  his  brow,  and  the  soul 
wraps  its  sweet  afi'ections  about  his  heart;  angels  spread 
their  wings  above  him,  and  God  calls  him  His  child. 
He  treads  the  earth  its  acknowledged  monarch,  and 
commences  its  subjection.  One  by  one  the  elements^ 
have  yielded  to  his  sway,  nature  has  revealed  her  hoar- 
iest secrets  to  his  ken,  and  heaven  thrown  wide  its  por- 
tals to  his  spirit.  He  stands  now  upon  the  very  acme 
of  the  visible  creation,  and  with  straining  eye,  and 
listening  ear,  and  anxious  heart,  whispers  to  himself 
that  terrific  and  tremendous  word — Whitherward! 


2  20  Cax ton's  Book. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  April,  I  was  sitting  on  the 
grassy  slope  of  Telegraph  Hill,  watching  the  waves  of 
sunset  as  they  rolled  in  from  the  west,  and  broke  in 
crimson  spray  upon  the  peaks  of  the  Contra  Costa  hills. 
I  was  alone;  and,  as  my  custom  is,  was  ruminating  upon 
the  grand  problem  of  futurity.  The  broad  and  beauti- 
ful bay  spread  out  like  a  sea  of  silver  at  my  feet,  and 
the  distant  mountains,  reflecting  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun,  seemed  to  hem  it  in  with  barriers  of  gold.  The 
city  lay  like  a  tired  infant  at  evening  in  its  mother's 
arms,  and  only  at  intervals  disturbed  my  reflections  by 
its  expiring  sobs.  The  hours  of  business  I  well  knew 
had  passed,  and  the  heavy  iron  door  had  long  since 
grated  on  its  hinges,  and  the  fire-proof  shutter  been 
bolted  for  the  night.  But  I  felt  that  my  labors  had 
just  commenced.  The  duties  of  my  profession  had 
swallowed  up  thought  throughout  the  long  hours  devo- 
ted to  the  cares  of  life,  and  it  was  not  until  I  was 
released  from  their  thraldom  that  I  found  myself  in 
truth  a  slave.  The  one  master-thought  came  back  into 
my  brain,  until  it  burned  its  hideous  image  there  in 
letters  of  fire — Whitherward!  Whitherward! 

The  past  came  up  before  me  with  its  long  memories 
of  Egyptian  grandeur,  with  its  triumphs  of  Grecian 
art,  with  its  burden  of  Roman  glory.  Italy  came  with 
her  republics,  her  "  starry"  Galileo,  and  her  immortal 
Buouarotti.  France  flashed  by,  with  her  garments 
dyed  in  blood,  and  her  Napoleons  in  chains.  England 
rose  up  with  her  arts  and  her  arms,  her  commerce  and 
her  civilization,  her  splendor  and  her  shame.  I  beheld 
Newton  gazing  at  the  stars,  heard  Milton  singing  of 
Paradise,  and  saw  Russell  expiring  on  the  scaffold.  But 
ever  and  anon  a  pale,  thorn-crowned  monarch,  arrayed 
in  mock-purple,  and  bending  beneath  a  cross,  would 


Whitherward.  221 

start  fortli  at  my  side,  and  with  uplifted  eye,  but  speech- 
less lip,  point  with  one  hand  to  the  pages  of  a  volume 
I  had  open  on  my  knee,  and  with  the  other  to  the  blue 
heaven  above.  Judea  would  then  pass  with  solemn 
tread  before  me.  Her  patriarchs,  her  prophets  and  her 
apostles,  her  judges,  her  kings,  and  her  people,  one  by 
one  came  and  went  like  the  phantasmagoria  of  a  dream. 
The  present  then  rose  up  in  glittering  robes,  its  feet 
resting  upon  the  mounds  of  Nimrod,  its  brow  encir- 
cled with  a  coronet  of  stars,  pillaging,  with  one  hand, 
the  cloud  above  of  its  lightnings,  and  sending  them 
forth  with  the  other,  bridled  and  subdued,  to  the  utter- 
most ends  of  the  earth. 

But  this  was  not  all.  Earth's  physical  history  also 
swept  by  in  full  review.  All  nature  lent  her  stores,  and 
with  an  e£fort  of  mind,  by  no  means  uncommon  for 
those  who  have  long  thought  upon  a  single  subject,  I 
seemed  to  possess  the  power  to  generalize  all  that  I  had 
ever  heard,  read  or  seen,  into  one  gorgeous  picture,  and 
hang  it  up  in  the  wide  heavens  before  me. 

The  actual  scenery  around  me  entirely  disappeared, 
and  I  beheld  an  immense  pyramid  of  alabaster,  reared 
to  the  very  stars,  upon  whose  sides  I  saw  inscribed  a 
faithful  history  of  the  past.  Its  foundations  were  in 
deep  shadow,  but  the  light  gradually  increased  toward 
the  top,  until  its  summit  was  bathed  in  the  most  reful- 
gent lustre. 

Inscribed  in  golden  letters  I  read  on  one  of  its  sides 
these  words,  in  alternate  layers,  rising  gradually  to  the 
apex:  "Granite,  Liquid,  Gas,  Electricity;''  on  another^ 
"Inorganic,  Vegetable,  Animal,  Human;"  on  the  third 
side,  "Consciousness,  Memory,  Reason,  Imagination;'''^ 
and  on  the  fourth,  "  Chaos,  Order,  Harmony,  Love." 
At  this  moment  I  beheld  the  figure  of  a  human  being 


:2  2  2  Caxton  s  Book. 

:^stauding  at  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  and  gazing  intently 
upward.  He  then  placed  his  foot  upon  the  foundation, 
.and  commenced  climbing  toward  the  summit.  I  caught 
.a  distinct  view  of  his  features,  and  perceived  that  they 
were  black  and  swarthy  like  those  of  the  most  depraved 
Hottentot.  He  toiled  slowly  upward,  and  as  he  passed 
the  first  layer,  he  again  looked  toward  me,  and  I  ob- 
rserved  that  his  features  had  undergone  a  complete 
transformation.  They  now  resembled  those  of  an 
American  Indian.  He  passed  the  second  layer;  and  as 
he  entered  the  third,  once  more  presented  his  face  to 
me  for  observation.  Another  change  had  overspread 
it,  and  I  readily  recognized  in  him  the  tawny  native  of 
Malacca  or  Hindoostan.  As  he  reached  the  last  layer, 
and  entered  its  region  of  refulgent  light,  I  caught  a  full 
rglimpse  of  his  form  and  features,  and  beheld  the  high 
forehead,  the  glossy  ringlets,  the  hazel  eye,  and  the 
-alabaster  skin  of  the  true  Caucasian. 

I  now  observed  for  the  first  time  that  the  pyramid 
-was  left  unfinished,  and  that  its  summit,  instead  of  pre- 
senting a  well-defined  peak,  was  in  reality  a  level  plain. 
In  a  few  moments  more,  the  figure  I  had  traced  from 
the  base  to  the  fourth  layer,  reached  the  apex,  and 
:stood  with  folded  arms  and  upraised  brow  upon  the 
very  summit.  His  lips  parted  as  if  about  to  speak, 
;and  as  I  leaned  forward  to  hear,  I  caught,  in  distinct 
tone  and  thrilling  accent,  that  word  which  had  so  often 
risen  to  my  own  lips  for  utterance,  and  seared  my  very 
brain,  because  unanswered — Whitheeward! 

"Whitherward,  indeed!"  exclaimed  I,  aloud,  shud- 
dering at  the  sepulchral  sound  of  my  voice.  "  Home," 
responded  a  tiny  voice  at  my  side,  and  turning  suddenly 
around,  my  eyes  met  those  of  a  sweet  little  school-girl, 
with  a  basket  of  flowers  upon  her  arm,  who  had  ap- 


Whitherward.  223 

proached  me  unobserved,  and  who  evidently  imagined 
T  had  addressed  her  when  I  spoke.  "  Yes,  little  daugh- 
ter," replied  I,  "'tis  time  to  proceed  homeward,  for 
the  sun  has  ceased  to  gild  the  summit  of  Diavolo,  and 
i;he  evening  star  is  visible  in  the  west.  I  will  attend 
you  home,"  and  taking  her  proffered  hand,  I  descended 
the  hill,  with  the  dreadful  word  still  ringing  in  my  ears, 
and  the  fadeless  vision  still  glowing  in  my  heart. 

Midnight  had  come  and  gone,  and  still  the  book  lay 
•open  on  my  knee.  The  candle  had  burned  down  close 
to  the  socket,  and  threw  a  flickering  glimmer  around 
my  chamber;  but  no  indications  of  fatigue  or  slumber 
visited  my  eyelids.  My  temples  throbbed  heavily,  and 
I  felt  the  hot  and  excited  blood  playing  like  the  piston- 
rod  of  an  engine  between  my  heart  and  brain. 

I  had  launched  forth  on  the  broad  ocean  of  specula- 
tion, and  now  perceived,  when  too  late,  the  perils  of 
my  situation.  Above  me  were  dense  and  lowering 
•clouds,  which  no  eye  could  penetrate;  around  me  howl- 
ing tempests,  which  no  voice  could  quell;  beneath  me 
heaving  billows,  which  no  oil  could  calm.  I  thought  of 
Plato  struggling  with  his  doubts;  of  Epicurus  sinking 
beneath  them;  of  Socrates  swallowing  his  poison;  of 
•Cicero  surrendering  himself  to  despair.  I  remembered 
how  all  the  great  souls  of  the  earth  had  staggered 
beneath  the  burden  of  the  same  thought,  which  weighed 
like  a  thousand  Cordilleras  upon  my  own;  and  as  I 
pressed  my  hand  upon  my  burning  brow,  I  cried  again 
and  again — Whitherward  !  Whitherward  ! 

I  could  find  no  relief  in  philosophy;  for  I  knew  her 

maxims  by  heart  from  Zeno  and  the  Stagirite  down  to 

^Berkeley  and  Cousin.     I  had  followed  her  into  all  her 

hiding-places,  and  courted  her  in  all  her  moods.     No 


2  24  Caxtofi  s  Book. 

coquette  was  ever  half  so  false,  so  fickle,  and  so  faiiv 
Her  robes  are  woven  of  the  sunbeams,  and  a  star 
adorns  her  brow;  but  she  sits  impassive  upon  her  icy 
throne,  and  wields  no  scepter  but  despair.  The  light 
she  throws  around  is  not  the  clear  gleam  of  the  sun- 
shine, nor  the  bright  twinkle  of  the  star;  but  glances 
in  fitful  glimmerings  on  the  soul,  like  the  aurora  on  the 
icebergs  of  the  pole,  and  lightens  up  the  scene  only  to 
show  its  utter  desolation. 

The  Bible  lay  open  before  me,  but  I  could  find  no 
comfort  there.  Its  lessons  were  intended  only  for  the 
meek  and  humble,  and  my  heart  was  cased  in  pride. 
It  reached  only  to  the  believing;  I  was  tossed  on  an 
ocean  of  doubt.  It  required,  as  a  condition  to  faith, 
the  innocence  of  an  angel  and  the  humility  of  a  child; 
I  had  long  ago  seared  my  conscience  by  mingling  in 
the  busy  scenes  of  life,  and  was  proud  of  my  mental 
acquirements.  The  Bible  spoke  comfort  to  the  Publi- 
can; I  was  of  the  straight  sect  of  the  Pharisees.  Its 
promises  were  directed  to  the  poor  in  spirit,  whilst 
mine  panted  for  renown. 

At  this  moment,  whilst  heedlessly  turning  over  its 
leaves  and  scarcely  glancing  at  their  contents,  my  atten- 
tion was  arrested  by  this  remarkable  passage  in  one  of 
Paul's  epistles:  "That  was  not  first  which  is  spiritual, 
but  that  which  was  natural,  and  afterward  that  which 
is  spiritual.  Behold,  I  show  you  a  mystery:  loe  shall 
not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in  a  moment, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the  last  trump." 

Again  and  again  I  read  this  text,  for  it  promised  more 
by  reflection  than  at  first  appeared  in  the  words.  Slowly 
a  light  broke  in  on  the  horizon's  verge,  and  I  felt,  for 
the  first  time  in  my  whole  life,  that  the  past  was  not  all 
inexplicable,  nor  the  future  a  chaos,  but  that  the  human. 


Wh  itherward.  225 

soul,  lit  up  by  the  torch  of  science,  and  guided  by  the 
prophecies  of  Holy  Writ,  mij^ht  predict  the  path  it  is 
destined  to  tread,  and  read  in  advance  the  history  of 
its  final  enfranchisement.  St.  Paul  evidently  intended 
to  teach  the  doctrine  of  progress,  even  in  its  applica- 
bility to  man.  He  did  not  belong  to  that  narrow- 
minded  sect  in  philosophy,  which  declares  that  the 
earth  and  the  heavens  are  finished;  that  man  is  the 
crowning  glory  of  his  Maker,  and  the  utmost  stretch  of 
His  creative  power;  that  henceforth  the  globe  which  he 
inhabits  is  barren,  and  can  produce  no  being  superior 
to  himself.  On  the  contrary,  he  clearly  intended  to 
teach  the  same  great  truth  which  modern  science  is 
demonstrating  to  all  the  world,  that  progression  is 
nature's  first  law,  and  that  even  in  the  human  kingdom 
the  irrevocable  decree  has  gone  forth — Onward  and 
Upwaed,  Forever! 

Such  Avere  my  reflections  when  the  last  glimmer  of 
the  candle  flashed  up  like  a  meteor,  and  then  as  sud- 
denly expired  in  night.  I  was  glad  that  the  shadows 
were  gone.  Better,  thought  I,  is  utter  darkness  than 
that  poor  flame  which  renders  it  visible.  But  I  had 
suddenly  grown  rich  in  thought.  A  clue  had  been  fur- 
nished to  the  labyrinth  in  which  I  had  wandered  from 
a  child;  a  hint  had  been  planted  in  the  mind  which  it 
would  be  impossible  ever  to  circumscribe  or  extinguish. 
One  letter  had  been  identified  by  which,  like  Champol- 
lion  le  Jeune,  I  could  eventually  decipher  the  inscrip- 
tion on  the  pyramid.  What  are  these  sj)ectral  appari- 
tions which  rear  themselves  in  the  human  mind,  and 
are  called  by  mortals  Jiints  ?  Whence  do  they  come  ? 
Who  lodges  them  in  the  chambers  of  the  mind,  where 
they  sprout  and  germinate,  and  bud  and  blossom,  and 
bear? 

15 


2  26  Caxtons  Book. 

The  Florentine  caught  one  as  it  fell  from  the  stars, 
and  invented  the  telescope  to  observe  them.  Columbus 
caught  another,  as  it  was  whispered  by  the  winds,  and 
they  wafted  him  to  the  shores  of  a  New  World.  Frank- 
lin beheld  one  flash  forth  from  the  cloud,  and  he  traced 
the  lightnings  to  their  bourn.  Another  dropped  from 
the  skies  into  the  brain  of  Leverrier,  and  he  scaled  the 
very  heavens,  till  he  unburied  a  star. 

Eapidly  was  my  mind  working  out  the  solution  of  the 
problem  which  had  so  long  tortured  it,  based  upon  the 
intimation  it  had  derived  from  St.  Paul's  epistle,  when 
most  unexpectedly,  and  at  the  same  time  most  unwel- 
comely,  I  fell  into  one  of  those  strange  moods  which 
can  neither  be  called  sleep  nor  consciousness,  but  which 
leave  their  impress  far  more  powerfully  than  the  visions 
of  the  night  or  the  events  of  the  day. 

I  beheld  a  small  egg,  most  beautifully  dotted  over, 
and  stained.     Whilst  my  eye  rested  on  it,  it  cracked; 
an  opening  was  made  from  ivithin,  and  almost  imme- 
diately  afterward   a   bird   of    glittering  plumage   and 
mocking  song  flew  out,  and  perched  on  the  bough  of  a 
rose-tree,  beneath  whose  shadow  I  found  myself  reclin- 
ing.    Before   my   surprise   had   vanished,  I  beheld   a 
painted  worm  at  my  feet,  crawling  toward  the  root  of 
the  tree    which   was    blooming   above    me.      It   soon 
reached  the   trunk,    climbed   into   the   branches,    and 
commenced  spinning  its  cocoon.     Hardly  had  it  finished 
its  silken  home,  ere  it  came  forth  in  the  form  of  a  gor- 
geous butterfly,  and,  spreading  its  wings,  mounted  to- 
ward the  heavens.     Quickly  succeeding  this,  the  same 
pyramid  of  alabaster,  which  I  had  seen  from  the  summit 
of  Telegraph  Hill  late  in  the  afternoon,  rose  gradually 
upon  the  view.     It  was  in  nowise  changed ;  the  inscrip- 
tions on  the  sides  were  the  same,   and  the   identical 


JVh  itherward,  227 

figure  stood  with  folded  arms  and  uplifted  brow  upon 
the  top.  I  now  heard  a  rushing  sound,  such  as  stuns 
the  ear  at  Niagara,  or  greets  it  during  a  hurricane  at 
sea,  when  the  shrouds  of  the  ship  are  whistling  to  the 
blast,  and  the  flashing  billows  are  dashing  against  her 
sides. 

Suddenly  the  pyramid  commenced  changing  its  form, 
and  before  many  moments  elapsed  it  had  assumed  the 
rotundity  of  a  globe,  and  I  beheld  it  covered  with  seas, 
and  hills,  and  lakes,  and  mountains,  and  plains,  and  fer- 
tile fields.  But  the  human  figure  still  stood  upon  its 
crest.  Then  came  forth  the  single  blast  of  a  bugle, 
such  as  the  soldier  hears  on  the  morn  of  a  world-chang- 
ing battle.  Caesar  heard  it  at  Pharsalia,  Titus  at  Jeru- 
salem, Washington  at  Yorktown,  and  Wellington  at 
Waterloo. 

No  lightning  flash  ever  rended  forest  king  from  crest 
to  root  quicker  than  the  transformation  which  now  over- 
spread the  earth.  In  a  second  of  time  it  became  as 
transparent  as  crystal,  and  as  brilliant  as  the  sun.  But 
in  every  other  respect  it  preserved  its  identity.  On 
casting  my  eyes  toward  the  human  being,  I  perceived 
that  he  still  preserved  his  position,  but  his  feet  did  not 
seem  to  touch  the  earth.  He  appeared  to  be  floating 
upon  its  arch,  as  the  halcyon  floats  in  the  atmosphere. 
His  features  were  lit  up  with  a  heavenly  radiance,  and 
assumed  an  expression  of  superhuman  beauty. 

The  thought  crossed  my  mind,  Can  this  be  a  spirit? 
As  sudden  as  the  question  came  forth  the  response,  "  I 
am."  But,  inquired  my  mind,  for  my  lips  did  not 
move,  you  have  never  passed  the  portals  of  the  grave  ? 
Again  I  read  in  his  features  the  answer,  ' '  For  ages  this 
earth  existed  as  a  natural  body,  and  all  its  inhabitants 
partook  of  its  characteristics;  gradually  it  approached 


2  28  Caxton  s  Book, 

the  spiritual  state,  and  by  a  law  like  that  wliicli  trans- 
forms the  egg  into  the  songster,  or  the  worm  into  the 
butterfly,  it  has  just  accomplished  one  of  its  mighty 
cycles,  and  now  gleams  forth  with  the  refulgence  of  the 
stars.  I  did  not  die,  but  passed  as  naturally  into  the 
spiritual  world  as  the  huge  earth  itself.  Prophets  and 
apostles  predicted  this  change  many  hundred  years  ago; 
but  the  blind  infatuation  of  our  race  did  not  permit 
them  to  realize  its  truth.  Your  own  mind,  in  common 
with  the  sages  of  all  time,  long  brooded  over  the  idea, 
and  oftentimes  have  you  exclaimed,  in  agony  and  dis- 
may— Whitherwaed!  Whitherward! 

"The  question  is  now  solved.  The  revolution  may 
not  come  in  the  year  allotted  you,  but  so  surely  as  St. 
Paul  spoke  inspiration,  so  surely  as  science  elicits  truth, 
so  surely  as  the  past  prognosticates  the  future,  the 
natural  world  must  pass  into  the  spiritual,  and  every- 
thing be  changed  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  Watch 
well!  your  own  ears  may  hear  the  clarion  note,  your 
own  eyes  witness  the  transfiguration." 

Slowly  the  vision  faded  away,  and  left  me  straining 
my  gaze  into  the  dark  midnight  which  now  shrouded 
the  world,  and  endeavoring  to  calm  my  heart,  which 
throbbed  as  audibly  as  the  hollow  echoes  of  a  drum. 
When  the  morning  sun  peeped  over  the  Contra  Costa 
range,  I  still  sat  silent  and  abstracted  in  my  chair,  re- 
volving over  the  incidents  of  the  night,  but  thankful 
that,  though  the  reason  is  powerless  to  brush  away  the 
clouds  which  obscure  the  future,  yet  the  imagination 
may  spread  its  wings,  and,  soaring  into  the  heavens 
beyond  them,  answer  the  soul  when  in  terror  she  in- 
quires— Whitherward  ! 


XVI. 

OUR     WEDDING-DAY. 

I. 

A    DOZEN  springs,  and  more,  dear  Sue, 
-^-^     Have  bloomed,  and  passed  away, 
Since  hand  in  band,  and  heart  to  heart, 

We  spent  our  wedding-day. 
Youth  blossomed  on  our  cheeks,  dear  Sue, 

Joy  chased  each  tear  of  woe, 
"When  first  we  promised  to  be  true, 

That  morning  long  ago. 

n. 

Though  many  cares  have  come,  dear  Sue, 

•To  checker  life's  career, 
As  down  its  pathway  we  have  trod. 

In  trembling  and  in  fear. 
Still  in  the  darkest  storm,  dear  Sue, 

That  lowered  o'er  the  way. 
We  clung  the  closer,  while  it  blew, 

And  laughed  the  clouds  away. 

m. 
'Tis  true,  our  home  is  humble.  Sue, 

And  riches  we  have  not, 
But  children  gambol  round  our  door. 

And  consecrate  the  spot. 
Our  sons  are  strong  and  brave,  dear  Sue, 

Our  daughters  fair  and  gay. 
But  none  so  beautiful  as  you. 

Upon  our  wedding-day. 


I 


230  Caxton  s  Book. 

IV. 

No  grief  has  crossed  our  threshold,  Sue, 

No  crape  festooned  the  door, 
But  health  has  waved  its  halcyon  wings. 

And  plenty  filled  our  store. 
Then  let's  be  joyful,  darling  Sue, 

And  chase  dull  cares  away, 
And  kindle  rosy  hope  anew. 

As  on  our  wedding-day. 


XVII. 

THE  OLD  YEAR  AND  THE  NEW.     ' 

/^NE  more  flutter  of  time's  restless  wing, 

^-^  One  more  fuiTow  in  the  forehead  of  spring; 

One  more  step  in  the  journey  of  fate, 

One  more  ember  gone  out  in  life's  grate; 

One  more  gray  hair  in  the  head  of  the  sage, 

One  more  round  in  the  ladder  of  age; 

One  leaf  more  in  the  volume  of  doom, 

And  one  span  less  in  the  march  to  the  tomb, 

Since  brothers,  we  gathered  around  bowl  and  tree. 

And  Santa  Glaus  welcomed  with  frolic  and  glee. 

How  has  thy  life  been  speeding 

Since  Aurora,  at  the  dawn. 
Peeped  within  thy  portals,  leading 

The  babe  year,  newly  born? 

Has  thy  soul  been  scorched  by  sorrow, 

Has  some  spectre  nestled  there? 
And  with  every  new  to-morrow. 

Sowed  the  seeds  of  fresh  despair? 
Rise  from  thy  grief,  my  brothers ! 

Burst  its  chain  with  strength  sublime, 
Tor  behold !  I  bring  another. 

And  a  fairer  child  of  time. 

Has  the  year  brought  health  and  riches? 

Have  thy  barns  been  brimming  o'er? 
Will  thy  stature  fit  the  niches 

Hewn  for  Hercules  of  yore  ? 


232  Caxton  s  Book. 

Are  tliy  muscles  firm  as  granite? 

Are  thy  thousands  safe  and  sound? 
Behold!  the  rolling  planet 

Starts  on  a  nobler  round. 

But  perhaps  across  thy  vision 
Death  had  cast  its  shadow  there, 

And  thy  home,  once  all  elysian. 
Now  crapes  an  empty  chair; 

Or  happier,  thy  dominions, 

Spreading  broad  and  deep  and  strong. 

Re-echo  'neath  love's  pinions 
.  To  a  pretty  cradle  song! 

"Whate'er  thy  fortunes,  brother! 

God's  blessing  on  your  head; 
Joy  for  the  living  mother, 

Peace  with  the  loving  dead. 


XVIII. 

A  PAIR  OF  MYTHS: 

BEING  A  CHAPTER    FROM   AN    UNPUBLISHED    WORK. 

EIGHT  days  passed  away  uureckoned,  and  still  I  re- 
mained unconscious  of  everything  occurring  around 
ine.  The  morning  of  the  ninth  dawned,  dragged  heavily 
-along,  and  noon  approached,  whilst  I  lay  in  the  same 
-comatose  state.  No  alteration  had  taken  place,  except 
that  a  deeper  and  sounder  sleep  seemed  to  have  seized 
upon  me;  a  symptom  hailed  by  my  physician  with  joy, 
but  regarded  by  my  mother  with  increased  alarm. 

Suddenly,  the  incautious  closing  of  my  chamber 
door,  as  my  sister,  Miss  Lucy  Stanly,  then  in  her 
fifteenth  year,  entered  the  apartment,  aroused  me  from 
slumber  and  oblivion. 

Abed  at  noonday!  "What  did  it  betoken?  I  endeav- 
ored to  recall  something  of  the  past,  but  memory  for  a 
long  time  refused  its  aid,  and  I  appeared  as  fatally  and 
irremediably  unconscious  as  ever.  Gradually,  however, 
my  shattered  mind  recovered  its  faculties,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  after  my  awakening,  I  felt  perfectly  re- 
stored. No  pain  tormented  me,  and  no  torpor  benumbed 
any  faculties.  I  rapidly  reviewed,  mentally,  the  occur- 
rences of  the  day  before,  when,  as  I  imagined,  the 
•disaster  had  happened,  and  resolved  at  once  to  rise 
from  my  bed  and  prosecute  my  intended  journey. 

At  this  moment   my  father   entered   the  apartment, 


2  34  Caxtoii  s  Book. ' 

and  observiDg  that  I  was  awake,  ventured  to  speak  to 
me  kindly  and  in  a  very  low  tone.  I  smiled  at  bis. 
uneasiness,  and  immediately  relieved  him  from  all 
apprehension,  by  conversing  freely  and  intelligibly  of 
the  late  catastrophe.  His  delight  knew  no  bounds. 
He  seized  my  hand  a  thousand  times,  and  pressed  it 
again  and  again  to  his  lips.  At  length,  remembering; 
that  my  mother  was  ignorant  of  my  complete  restora- 
tion, he  rushed  from  the  room,  in  order  to  be  the  first 
to  convey  the  welcome  intelligence. 

My  bed  was  soon  surrounded  by  the  whole  family,; 
chattering  away,  wild  with  joy,  and  imprinting  scores 
of  kisses  on  my  lips,  cheeks  and  forehead.  The  excite- 
ment proved  too  severe  for  me  in  my  weak  condition, 
and  had  not  the  timely  arrival  of  the  physician  inter- 
vened to  clear  my  chamber  of  every  intruder,  except 
Mamma  Betty,  as  we  all  called  the  nurse,  these  pages  in 
all  probability  would  never  have  arrested  the  reader's- 
eye.  As  it  was,  I  suddenly  grew  very  sick  and  faint; 
everything  around  me  assumed  a  deep  green  tinge,  and 
I  fell  into  a 'deathlike  swoon. 

Another  morning's  sun  was  shining  cheerily  in  at 
my  window,  when  consciousness  again  returned.  The 
doctor  was  soon  at  my  side,  and  instead  of  prescribing 
physic  as  a  remedy,  requested  my  sister  to  sit  at  my 
bedside,  and  read  in  a  low  tone  any  interesting  little 
story  she  might  select.  He  cautioned  her  not  to  men- 
tion, even  in  the  most  casual  manner,  Mormonism,  Sf. 
Louis,  or  the  Moselle,  which  order  she  most  implicitly 
obeyed;  nor  could  all  my  ingenuity  extract  a  solitary 
remark  in  relation  to  either. 

My  sister  was  not  very  long  in  making  a  selection; 
for,  supposing  what  delighted  herself  would  not  fail 
to  amuse  me,  she  brought   in  a  manuscript,  carefully 


A  Pair  of  Myths.  235 

folded,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  narrate  its  history. 
It  was  written  by  my  father,  as  a  sort  of  model  or 
sampler  for  my  brothers  and  sisters,  which  they  were 
to  imitate  when  composition-day  came  round,  instead  of 
"hammering  away,"  as  he  called  it,  on  moral  essays 
and  metaphysical  commonplaces.     It  was  styled 

THE     KING     OF     THE     NINE-PINS:     A    MYTH. 

Heinrich  Schwarz,  or  Black  Hal,  as  he  was  wont  to 
be  called,  was  an  old  toper,  but  he  was  possessed  of 
infinite  good  humor,  and  related  a  great  many  very 
queer  stories,  the  truth  of  which  no  one,  that  I  ever 
heard  of,  had  the  hardihood  to  doubt;  for  Black  Hal 
had  an  uncommon  share  of  "Teutonic  pluck"  about 
him,  and  was  at  times  very  unceremonious  in  the  display 
of  it.  But  Hal  had  a  weakness — it  was  not  liquor,  for 
that  was  his  strength — which  he  never  denied;  Hal  was 
too  fond  of  nine-pins.  He  had  told  me,  in  confidence, 
that  "many  a  time  and  oft"  he  had  rolled  incessantly 
for  weeks  together.  I  think  I  heard  him  say  that  he 
once  rolled  for  a  month,  day  and  night,  without  stop- 
ping a  single  moment  to  eat  or  to  drink,  or  even  to 
catch  his  breath. 

I  did  not  question  his  veracity  at  the  time;  but  since, 
on  reflection,  the  fact  seems  almost  incredible;  and 
were  it  not  that  this  sketch  might  accidentally  fall  in 
his  way,  I  might  be  tempted  to  show  philosophically 
that  such  a  thing  could  not  possibly  be.  And  yet  I 
have  read  of  very  long  fasts  in  my  day — that,  for 
instance,  of  Captain  Eiley  in  the  Great  Sahara,  and 
others,  wliich  will  readily  occur  to  the  reader.  But  I 
must  not  episodize,  or  I  shall  not  reach  my  story. 

Black  Hal  was  sitting  late  one  afternoon  in  a  Nine- 
Pin  Alley,  in  the  little  town  of  Kaatskill,  in  the  State  of 


236  Caxtons  Book. 

New  York — it  is  true,  for  he  said  so — when  a  tremen- 
dous thunder-storm  invested  his  retreat.  His  com- 
panions, one  by  one,  had  left  him,  until,  rising  from 
his  seat  and  gazing  around,  he  discovered  that  he  was 
alone.  The  alley-keeper,  too,  could  nowhere  be  found, 
and  the  boys  who  were  employed  to  set  up  the  pins  had 
disappeared  with  the  rest.  It  was  growing  very  late, 
and  Hal  had  a  long  walk,  and  he  thought  it  most 
prudent  to  get  ready  to  start  home.  The  lightning 
.glared  in  at  the  door  and  windows  most  vividly,  and 
the  heavy  thunder  crashed  and  rumbled  and  roared 
louder  than  he  had  ever  heard  it  before.  The  rain, 
too,  now  commenced  to  batter  down  tremendously,  and 
just  as  night  set  in,  Hal  had  just  got  ready  to  set  out. 
Hal  first  felt  uneasy,  next  unhappy,  and  finally  miser- 
able. If  he  had  but  a  boy  to  talk  to!  I'm  afraid  Hal 
began  to  grow  scared.  A  verse  that  he  learned  in  his 
boyhood,  across  the  wide  sea,  came  unasked  into  his 
mind.  It  always  came  there  precisely  at  the  time  he 
did  not  desire  its  company.     It  ran  thus : 

"  Oh  !  for  the  might  of  dread  Odin 
The  powers  upon  him  shed, 
For  a  sail  in  the  good  ship  Skidbladnir,* 
And  a  talk  with  Mimir's  head  !"  t 

This  verse  was  repeated  over  and  over  again  inaud- 
ibly.  Gradually,  however,  his  voice  became  a  little  louder, 
and  a  little  louder  still,  until  finally  poor  Hal  hallooed 
it  vociferously  forth  so  sonorously  that  it  drowned  the 
very  thunder.     He  had  repeated  it  just  seventy-seven 

*  The  ship  Skidbladnir  was  the  property  of  Odin.  He  could  sail  in 
it  on  the  most  dangerous  seas,  and  yet  could  fold  it  up  and  carry  it  in 
his  pocket. 

t  Mimir's  head  was  always  the  companion  of  Odin.  When  he  de- 
sired to  know  what  was  transpiring  in  distant  countries,  he  inquired 
of  Mimir,  and  always  received  a  correct  reply. 


A  Pair  of  Myths,  237 

times,  when  sudclenlj  a  monstrous  head  was  thrust  in 
at  the  door,  and  demanded,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like 
the  maelstrom,  "  What  do  you  want  with  Odin  ?"  "  Oh, 
nothing — nothing  in  the  world,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  politely 
responded  poor  Hal,  shaking  from  head  to  foot.  Here 
the  head  was  followed  by  the  shoulders,  arms,  body  and 
legs  of  a  giant  at  least  forty  feet  high.  Of  course  he 
came  in  on  all  fours,  and  approached  in  close  proximity 
to  Black  Hal.  Hal  involuntarily  retreated,  as  far  as  he 
could,  reciting  to  himself  the  only  prayer  he  remem- 
bered, "  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  etc. 

The  giant  did  not  appear  desirous  of  pursuing  Hal, 
being  afraid — so  Hal  said — that  he  would  draw  his  knife 
on  him.  But  be  the  cause  what  it  might,  he  seated  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  nine-pin  alley,  and  shouted, 
"Stand  up  !"  As  he  did  so,  the  uine-pins  at  the  other 
end  arose  and  took  their  places. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  again  to  Hal,  "I'll  bet 
you  an  ounce  of  your  blood  I  can  beat  you  rolling." 

Hal  trembled  again,  but  meekly  replied,  "Please,  sir,, 
we  don't  bet  blood  nowadays — we  bet  money.'''' 

"Blood's  my  money,"  roared  forth  the  giant.  "Fee, 
fo,  fum  !"     Hal  tried  in  vain  to  hoist  the  window. 

"Will  you  bet?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Hal;  and  he  thought  as  it  was  only 
an  ounce,  he  could  spare  that  without  much  danger,  and 
it  might  appease  the  monster's  appetite. 

"  Roll  first!"  said  the  giant. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Hal,  as  he  seized  w^hat  he  sup- 
posed to  be  the  largest  and  his  favorite  ball. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  Mimir's  head?"  roared 
forth  the  monster. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  most  humbly,"  began  Hal,  as 
he  let  the  bloody  head  fall;  "I  did  not  mean  any  harm."' 


238  Caxtons  Book. 

"Eumble,  bang-wliang  !"  bellowed  the  thunder. 

Hal  fell  on  his  knees  and  recited  most  devoutly, 
*'Now  I  lay  me  down,"  etc. 

"Eoll  on!  roll  on!  I  say,"  and  the  giant  seized  poor 
Hal  by  the  collar  and  set  him  on  his  feet. 

He  now  selected  a  large  ball,  and  poising  it  carefully 
in  his  hand,  ran  a  few  steps,  and  sent  it  whirling  right 
in  among  the  nine-pins;  but  what  was  his  astonishment 
to  behold  them  jump  lightly  aside,  and  permit  the  ball 
to  pass  in  an  avenue  directly  through  the  middle  of  the 
alley.  Hal  shuddered.  The  second  and  third  ball  met 
with  no  better  success.  Odin — for  Hal  said  it  was  cer- 
tainly he,  as  he  had  Mimir's  head  along — now  grasped 
a  ball  and  rolled  it  with  all  his  might;  but  long  before 
it  reached  the  nine-pins,  they  had,  every  one  of  them, 
tumbled  down,  and  lay  sprawling  on  the  alley. 

"Two  spares  !"  said  the  giant,  as  he  grinned  most 
gleefully  at  poor  Hal.  "  Get  up  !"  and  up  the  pins  all 
stood  instantly.  Taking  another  ball,  he  hurled  it  down 
the  alley,  and  the  same  result  followed.  "Two  more 
spares  !"  and  Odin  shook  his  gigantic  sides  with 
laughter. 

"I  give  up  the  game,"  whined  out  Hal. 

"Then  you  lose  double,"  rejoined  Odin. 

Hal  readily  consented  to  pay  two  ounces,  for  he 
imagined,  by  yielding  at  once,  he  would  so  much  the 
sooner  get  rid  of  his  grim  companion.  As  he  said  so, 
Odin  pulled  a  pair  of  scales  out  of  his  coat  pocket,  made 
proportionably  to  his  own  size.  He  poised  them  upon 
a  beam  in  the  alley,  and  drew  forth  what  he  denominated 
two  ounces,  and  put  them  in  one  scale.  Each  ounce 
was  about  the  size  of  a  twenty-eight  pound  weight,  and 
was  quite  as  heavy. 

"Ha!   ha!   ha!!    Ha!   ha!  ha!!!    Ha!  ha!   ha!!!!" 


A  Pail"  of  Myths.  239 

sliouted  the  giant,  as  he  grasped  the  gasping  and  terri- 
fied gambler.  He  soon  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  bound 
Lis  arm  with  a  pocket  handkerchief.  Next  he  drew 
forth  a  lancet  as  long  as  a  sword,  and  drove  the  point 
into  the  biggest  vein  he  could  discove'r.  Hal  screamed 
and  fainted.  When  he  returned  to  consciousness,  the 
suu  was  shining  brightly  in  at  the  window,  and  the 
sweet  rumbling  of  the  balls  assured  him  that  he  still  lay 
where  the  giant  left  him.  On  rising  to  his  feet  he  per- 
ceived that  a  large  coagulum  of  blood  had  collected 
where  his  head  rested  all  night,  and  that  he  could 
scarcely  walk  from  the  effects  of  his  exhaustion.  He 
returned  immediately  home  and  told  his  wife  all  that 
liad  occurred;  and  though,  like  some  of  the  neighbors, 
she  distrusted  the  tale,  yet  she  never  intimated  her 
doubts  to  Black  Hal  himself.  The  alley-keeper  assured 
me  in  a  whisper,  one  day,  that  upon  the  very  night  fixed 
-on  by  Hal  for  the  adventure,  he  was  beastly  drunk,  and 
liad  been  engaged  in  a  fight  with  one  of  his  boon  com- 
panions, who  gave  him  a  black  eye  and  a  bloody  nose. 
But  the  alley-keeper  was  always  jealous  of  Black  Hal's 
superiority  in  story  telling;  besides,  he  often  drank  too 
much  himself,  and  I  suspect  he  originated  the  report  he 
related  to  me  in  a  fit  of  wounded  pride,  or  drunken 
braggadocio.  One  thing  is  certain,  he  never  ventured 
±0  repeat  the  story  in  the  presence  of  Black  Hal  himself. 

In  spite  of  the  attention  I  endeavored  to  bestow  on 
the  marvelous  history  of  Black  Hal  and  his  grim  com- 
panion, my  mind  occasionally  wandered  far  away,  and 
-could  only  find  repose  in  communing  with  her  who  I 
now  discovered  for  the  first  time  held  in  her  own  hands 
the  thread  of  my  destiny.  Lucy  was  not  blind  to  these 
fits  of  abstraction,  and  whenever  they  gained  entire 
•control  of  my  attention,  she  would  pause,  lay  down  the 


240  Caxton  s  Book. 

manuscript,  and  threaten  most  seriously  to  discontinue- 
the  perusal,  unless  I  proved  a  better  listener.  I  ask  no 
man's  pardon  for  declaring  that  my  sister  was  an  excel- 
lent reader.  Most  brothers,  perhaps,  think  the  same 
of  most  sisters;  but  there  ivas  a  charm  in  Lucy's  accent 
and  a  distinctness  in  her  enunciation  I  have  never 
heard  excelled.  Owing  to  these  qualities,  as  much, 
perhaps,  as  to  the  strangeness  of  the  story,  I  became 
interested  in  the  fate  of  the  drunken  gambler,  and  when 
Lucy  concluded,  I  was  ready  to  exclaim,  "  And  pray 
where  is  Black  Hal  now?" 

My  thoughts  took  another  direction,  however,  and  I 
impatiently  demanded  whether  or  not  the  sample  story 
had  been  imitated.  A  guilty  blush  assured  me  quite 
as  satisfactorily  as  words  could  have  done,  that  Miss 
Lucy  had  herself  made  an  attempt,  and  I  therefore 
insisted  that  as  she  had  whetted  and  excited  the  appe- 
tite, it  would  be  highly  unfraternal — (particularly  in  my 
present  very  precarious  condition) — that  parenthesis 
settled  the  matter — to  deny  me  the  means  of  satisfying  it. 

"But  you'll  laugh  at  me,"  timidly  whispered  my 
sister. 

"  Of  course  I  shall,"  said  I,  "if  your  catastrophe  is 
half  as  melancholy  as  Bhick  Hal's.  But  make  haste, 
or  I  shall  be  off  to  St.  Louis.  But  pray  inform  me, 
what  is  the  subject  of  your  composition?" 

"The  Origin  of  Marriage." 

"I  believe,  on  my  soul,"  responded  I,  laughing  out- 
right, "you  girls  never  think  about  anything  else." 

I  provoked  no  reply,  and  the  manuscript  being  un- 
folded, my  sister  thus  attempted  to  elucidate 

THE     OEIGIN     OF     MARRIAGE. 

Professor  Williams  having  ceased  his  manipulations, 
my  eyes  involuntarily  closed,  and  I  became  unconscious- 


A  Pair  of  Myths.  ia^i 

to  everytliing  occurring  around  me.  There's  truth  in 
mesmerism,  after  all,  thought  I,  and  being  in  the  clair- 
voyant state,  I  beheld  a  most  beautiful  comet  at  this 
moment  emerging  from  the  constellation  Taurus,  and 
describing  a  curve  about  the  star  Zeta,  one  of  the 
Pleiades.  Now  for  a  trip  through  infinite  space !  and 
as  this  thought  entered  my  brain,  I  grasped  a  hair  in 
the  tail  of  the  comet  as  it  whizzed  by  me. 

I  climbed  up  the  glittering  hair  until  I  found  myself 
seated  very  comfortably  on  the  comet's  back,  and  was 
beginning  to  enjoy  my  starlit  ramble  exceedingly,  when 
I  was  suddenly  aroused  from  my  meditations  by  the 
song  of  a  heavenly  minstrel,  who,  wandering  from  star 
to  star  and  system  to  system,  sang  the  fate  of  other 
worlds  and  other  beings  to  those  who  would  listen  to 
his  strains  and  grant  him  the  rites  of  hospitality.  As 
I  approached,  his  tones  were  suddenly  changed,  his 
voice  lowered  into  a  deeper  key,  and  gazing  intently  at 
me,  or  at  what  evidenced  my  presence  to  his  sight,  thus 
began : 

The  flaming  sword  of  the  cherub,  which  had  waved 
so  frightfully  above  the  gate  of  the  garden  of  Eden, 
had  disappeared;  the  angel  himself  was  gone;  and 
Adam,  as  he  approached  the  spot  where  so  lately  he 
had  enjoyed  the  delights  of  heaven,  beheld  with  aston- 
ishment and  regret  that  Paradise  and  all  its  splendors 
had  departed  from  the  earth  forever.  Where  the  gar- 
den lately  bloomed,  he  could  discover  only  the  dark 
and  smouldering  embers  of  a  conflagration;  a  hard  lava 
had  incrusted  itself  along  the  golden  walks;  the  birds 
were  flown,  the  flowers  withered,  the  fountains  dried 
up,  and  desolation  brooded  over  the  scene. 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  patriarch  of  men,  "where  are  now 
the  pleasures  which  I  once  enjoyed  along  these  peace- 
16 


242  Caxton  s  Book, 

fill  avenues?  Where  are  all  those  beautiful  spirits, 
given  by  Heaven  to  watch  over  and  protect  me  ?  Each 
guardian  angel  has  deserted  me,  and  the  rainbow 
glories  of  Paradise  have  flown.  No  more  the  sun  shines 
out  in  undimmed  splendor,  for  clouds  array  him  in 
gloom;  the  earth,  forgetful  of  her  verdure  and  her 
flowers,  produces  thorns  to  wound  and  frosts  to  chill 
me.  The  very  air,  once  all  balm  and  zephyrs,  now 
howls  around  me  with  the  voice  of  the  storm  and  the 
fury  of  the  hurricane.  No  more  the  notes  of  peace 
and  happiness  greet  my  ears,  but  the  harsh  tones  of 
strife  and  battle  resound  on  every  side.  Nature  has 
kindled  the  flames  of  discord  in  her  own  bosom,  and 
universal  war  has  begun  his  reign ! " 

And  then  the  father  of  mankind  hid  his  face  in  the 
bosom  of  his  companion,  and  wept  the  bitter  tears  of 
contrition  and  repentance. 

"  Oh,  do  not  weep  so  bitterly,  my  Adam,"  exclaimed 
his  companion.  "True,  we  are  miserable,  but  all  is 
not  yet  lost;  we  have  forfeited  the  smiles  of  Heaven, 
but  we  may  yet  regain  our  lost  place  in  its  afi"ections. 
Let  us  learn  from  our  misfortunes  the  anguish  of  guilt, 
but  let  us  learn  also  the  mercy  of  redemption.  We 
may  yet  be  happy." 

"  Oh,  talk  not  of  happiness  now,"  interrupted  Adam; 
* '  that  nymph  who  once  waited  at  our  side,  attentive  to 
the  beck,  has  disappeared,  and  fled  from  the  compan- 
ionship of  such  guilty,  fallen  beings  as  ourselves, 
forever." 

*'Not  forever,  Adam,"  kindly  rejoined  Eve;  "she 
may  yet  be  lurking  among  these  groves,  or  lie  hid  be- 
hind yon  hills. " 

"Then  let  us  find  her,"  quickly  responded  Adam; 
"  you  follow  the  sun,  sweet  Eve,  to  his  resting-place. 


A  Pair  of  Myths.  243 

•whilst  I  will  trace  these  sparkling  waters  to  their  bourn. 
Let  us  ramble  this  whole  creation  o'er;  and  when  we 
have  found  her,  let  us  meet  again  on  this  very  spot, 
and  cling  to  her  side,  until  the  doom  of  death  shall 
overtake  us." 

And  the  eye  of  Adam  beamed  with  hope,  then  kin- 
dled for  the  first  time  on  earth  in  the  bosom  of  man; 
and  he  bade  Eve  his  first  farewell,  and  started  eastward 
in  his  search. 

Eve  turned  her  face  to  the  west,  and  set  out  on  her 
allotted  journey. 

The  sun  had  shone  a  hundred  times  in  midsummer 
splendor,  and  a  hundred  times  had  hid  himself  in  the 
clouds  of  winter,  and  yet  no  human  foot  had  trod  the 
spot  where  the  garden  of  Eden  once  bloomed.  Adam 
had  in  vain  traced  the  Euphrates  to  the  sea,  and  climbed 
the  Himalaya  Mountains.  In  vain  had  he  endured  the 
tropical  heats  on  the  Ganges,  and  the  winter's  cold  in 
Siberia.  He  stood  at  last  upon  the  borders  of  that  nar- 
row sea  which  separates  Asia  from  America,  and  casting 
a  wistful  glance  to  the  far-ojBf  continent,  exclaimed:  "In 
yon  land,  so  deeply  blue  in  the  distance,  that  it  looks 
like  heaven.  Happiness  may  have  taken  refuge.  Alas ! 
I  cannot  pursue  her  there.  I  will  return  to  Eden,  and 
learn  if  Eve,  too,  has  been  unsuccessful." 

And  then  he  took  one  more  look  at  the  distant  land, 
sighed  his  adieu,  and  set  out  on  his  return. 

Poor  Eve !  First  child  of  misery,  first  daughter  of 
despair !  Poor  Eve,  with  the  blue  of  heaven  in  her  eye, 
and  the  crimson  of  shame  upon  her  lip!  Poor  Eve, 
arrayed  in  beauty,  but  hastening  to  decay — she,  too, 
was  unsuccessful. 

Wandering  in  her  westward  way,  the  azure  waters  of 
the  Mediterranean  soon  gleamed  upon  her  sight.     She 


244  Caxto7is  Book. 

stood  at  length  upon  the  pebbly  shore,  and  the  glad 
waves,  silent  as  death  before,  when  they  kissed  her 
naked  feet,  commenced  that  song  still  heard  in  their 
eternal  roar.  A  mermaid  seemed  to  rise  from  the  waters 
at  her  feet,  and  to  imitate  her  every  motion.  Her  long 
dark  tresses,  her  deep  blue  eyes,  her  rosy  cheek,  her 
sorrowful  look,  all  were  reflected  in  the  mermaid  before 
her. 

"Sweet  spirit,"  said  Eve,  "canst  thou  inform  me 
where  the  nymph  Happiness  lies  concealed?  She  always 
stood  beside  us  in  the  garden  of  Eden;  but  when  we 
were  driven  from  Paradise  we  beheld  her  no  more." 

The  lips  of  the  mermaid  moved,  but  Eve  could  hear 
no  reply. 

Ah !  mother  of  mankind,  the  crystal  waters  of  every 
sea,  reflecting  thy  lovely  image,  still  faithful  to  their 
trust,  conceal  a  mermaid  in  their  bosom  for  every 
daughter  of  beauty  who  looks  upon  them ! 

Neither  the  orange  groves  of  the  Arno,  nor  the  vine- 
yards of  France;  neither  the  forests  of  Germania,  nor 
the  caves  of  Norway,  concealed  the  sought-for  nymph. 
Eve  explored  them  all.  Her  track  was  imprinted  in  the 
sands  of  Sahara,  by  the  banks  of  the  Niger,  on  the 
rocks  of  Bengola,  in  the  vales  of  Abyssinia — but  all  in 
vain. 

' '  O  Happiness !  art  thou  indeed  departed  from  our 
earth  ?  How  can  we  live  without  thee  ?  Come,  Death," 
cried  Eve;  "come  now,  and  take  me  where  thou  wilt. 
This  world  is  a  desert,  for  Happiness  has  left  it 
desolate." 

A  gentle  slumber  soon  overcame  the  wearied  child  of 
sorrow,  and  in  her  sleep  a  vision  came  to  comfort  her. 
She  dreamed  that  she  stood  before  an  aged  man,  whose 
hoary  locks  attested  that  the  snows  of  many  winters  had 


A  Pair  of  Myths.  245 

Avliitened  tliem,  and  in  wliose  glance  she  recognized  the 
spirit  of  Wisdom. 

"Aged  Father,"  said  Eve,  **  where  is  Happiness?" 
and  then  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  Comfort  thyself.  Daughter,"  mildly  answered  the 
old  man;  "Happiness  yet  dwells  on  earth,  but  she  is 
no  longer  visible.  A  temple  is  built  for  her  in  every 
mortal's  bosom,  but  she  never  ascends  her  throne  until 
welcomed  there  by  the  child  of  Honor  and  Love." 

The  morning  sun  aroused  Eve  from  her  slumber,  but 
did  not  dispel  the  memory  of  her  dream.  "I  will  re- 
turn to  Eden,  and  there  await  until  the  child  of  Honor 
and  Love  shall  enthrone  in  my  bosom  the  lost  nymph 
Happiness;"  and  saying  this,  she  turned  her  face  to  the 
eastward,  and  thinking  of  Adam  and  her  vision,  jour- 
neyed joyfully  along. 

The  sun  of  Spring  had  opened  the  flowers  and  clothed 
the  woods  in  verdure;  had  freed  the  streams  from  their 
icy  fetters,  and  inspired  the  warbling  world  with  har- 
mony, when  two  forlorn  and  weary  travelers  approached 
the  banks  of  the  river  Pison;  that  river  which  had 
flowed  through  the  garden  of  Eden  when  the  first  sun- 
shine broke  upon  the  world.  A  hundred  years  had 
rolled  away,  and  the  echo  of  no  human  voice  had  re- 
sounded through  the  deserted  groves.  At  length  the 
dusky  figures  emerged  from  the  overshadowing  shrub- 
bery, and  raised  their  eyes  into  each  other's  faces.  One 
bound — one  cry — and  they  weep  for  joy  in  each  other's 
arms. 

Adam  related  his  sad  and  melancholy  story,  and  then 
Eve  soon  finished  hers.  But  no  sooner  had  she  told 
her  dream,  than  Adam,  straining  her  to  his  bosom, 
exclaimed: 

"  There  is  no  mystery  here,  my  Eve.     If  Happiness 


246  Caxto7is  Book. 

on  earth  be  indeed  the  child  of  Honor  and  Love,  it 
must  be  in  Matrimony  alone.  What  else  now  left  ns 
on  earth  can  lay  claim  to  the  precious  boon  ?  Approved 
by  heaven,  and  cherished  by  man,  in  the  holy  bonds  of 
Matrimony  it  must  consist;  and  if  this  be  all,  we  need 
seek  no  further;  it  is  ours!" 

They  then  knelt  in  prayer,  and  returned  thanks  to 
Heaven,  that  though  the  garden  of  Eden  was  a  wild, 
and  the  nymph  Happiness  no  longer  an  angel  at  their 
side,  yet  that  her  spirit  was  still  present  in  every 
bosom  where  the  heart  is  linked  to  Honor  and  Love 
by  the  sacred  ties  of  Matrimony. 


N 


XIX. 

THE  LAST  OF  HIS  RACE, 

~0  further  can  fate  tempt  or  try  me, 
With  guerdon  of  pleasure  or  pain; 
Ere  the  noon  of  my  life  has  sped  by  me, 

The  last  of  my  race  I  remain. 
To  that  home  so  long  left  I  might  journey; 

But  they  for  whose  greeting  I  yearn, 
Are  launched  on  that  shadowy  ocean 
Whence  voyagers  never  return. 

My  life  is  a  blank  in  creation, 

My  fortunes  no  kindred  may  share; 
No  brother  to  cheer  desolation, 

No  sister  to  soften  by  j)rayer; 
No  father  to  gladden  my  triumphs. 

No  mother  my  sins  to  atone; 
No  children  to  lean  on  in  dying — 

I  must  finish  my  journey  alone! 

In  that  hall,  where  their  feet  tripp'd  before  me, 

How  lone  would  now  echo  my  tread! 
While  each  fading  portrait  threw  o'er  me 

The  chill,  stony  smile  of  the  dead. 
One  sad  thought  bewilders  my  slumbers, 

From  eve  till  the  coming  of  dawn : 
I  cry  out  in  visions,  "  Where  are  they  ?  " 

And  echo  responds,  "  They  are  gone!" 


248  Caxton  s  Book. 

But  fain,  ere  the  life-fount  grows  colder, 

I'd  wend  to  that  lone,  distant  j)lace, 
That  row  of  green  hillocks,  where  moulder 

The  rest  of  my  early  doom'd  race. 
There  slumber  the  true  and  the  manly, 

There  slumber  the  spotless  and  fair; 
And  when  my  last  journey  is  ended, 

My  place  of  rej)ose  be  it  there ! 


XX. 

THE  TWO  GEORGES. 

BETWEEN  the  years  of  our  Lord  1730  and  1740, 
two  men  were  born  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Atlan- 
tic Ocean,  whose  lives  were  destined  to  exert  a  com- 
manding influence  on  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  as 
well  as  to  control  the  fortunes  of  many  succeeding  gen- 
erations. 

One  was  by  birth  a  plain  peasant,  the  son  of  a  Vir- 
ginia farmer;  the  other  an  hereditary  Prince,  and  the 
heir  of  an  immense  empire.  It  will  be  the  main  object 
of  this  sketch  to  trace  the  histories  of  these  two  indi- 
viduals, so  dissimilar  in  their  origin,  from  birth  to 
death,  and  show  how  it  happened  that  one  has  left  a 
name  synonymous  with  tyranny,  whilst  the  other  will 
descend  to  the  latest  posterity,  radiant  with  immortal 
glory,  and  renowned  the  world  over  as  the  friend  of 
virtue,  the  guardian  of  liberty,  and  the  benefactor  of  his 
race. 

Go  with  me  for  one  moment  to  the  crowded  and 
splendid  metropolis  of  England.  It  is  the  evening  of 
the  4th  of  June,  1734.  Some  joyful  event  must  have 
occurred,  for  the  bells  are  ringing  merrily,  and  the  in- 
habitants are  dressed  in  holiday  attire.  Nor  is  the  cir- 
cumstance of  a  private  nature,  for  banners  are  every- 
where displayed,  the  vast  city  is  illuminated,  and  a 
thousand  cannon  are   proclaiming   it  from  their  iron 


250  Caxton  s  Book. 

throats.  The  population  seem  frantic  with  joy,  and 
rush  tumultuously  into  each  other's  arms,  in  token  of  a 
national  jubilee.  Tens  of  thousands  are  hurrying  along 
toward  a  splendid  marble  pile,  situated  on  a  command- 
ing eminence,  near  the  river  Thames,  whilst  from  the 
loftiest  towers  of  St.  James's  Palace  the  national  ensigns 
of  St.  George  and  the  Ked  Cross  are  seen  floating  on 
the  breeze.  Within  one  of  the  most  gorgeously  fur- 
nished apartments  of  that  royal  abode,  the  wife  of 
Frederic,  Prince  of  "Wales,  and  heir  apparent  to  the 
British  Empire,  has  just  been  delivered  of  a  son.  The 
scions  of  royalty  crowd  into  the  bed-chamber,  and 
solemnly  attest  the  event  as  one  on  which  the  destiny  of 
a  great  empire  is  suspended.  The  corridors  are  thronged 
with  dukes,  and  nobles,  and  soldiers,  and  courtiers^,  all 
anxious  to  bend  the  supple  knee,  and  bow  the  willing 
neck,  to  power  just  cradled  into  the  world.  A  Koyal 
Proclamation  soon  follows,  commemorating  the  event, 
and  commanding  British  subjects  everywhere,  who 
acknowledge  the  honor  of  Brunswick,  to  rejoice,  and 
give  thanks  to  God  for  safely  ushering  into  existence 
George  William  Frederic,  heir  presumptive  of  the  united 
crowns  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  Just  twenty-two 
vears  afterward  that  child  ascended  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors  as  King  George  the  Third. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  eyes  to  the  Western  Continent, 
and  contemplate  a  scene  of  similar  import,  but  under 
circumstances  of  a  totally  different  character.  It  is  the 
22d  February,  1732.  The  locality  is  a  distant  colony, 
the  spot  the  verge  of  an  immense,  untrodden  and  unex- 
plored wilderness,  the  habitation  a  log  cabin,  with  its 
chinks  filled  in  with  clay,  and  its  sloping  roof  patched 
over  with  clapboards.  Snow  covers  the  ground,  and  a 
chill  wintery  wind  is  drifting  the  flakes,  and  moaning 


The   Tzuo   Georges.  251 

tliroiigli  the  forest.  Two  immense  chimneys  stand  at 
either  end  of  the  house,  and  give  promise  of  cheerful 
comfort  and  primitive  hospitality  within,  totally  in  con- 
trast with  external  nature.  There  are  but  four  small 
rooms  in  the  dwelling,  in  one  of  which  Mary  Ball,  the 
wife  of  Augustine  Washington,  has  just  given  birth  to 
a  son.  No  dukes  or  marquises  or  earls  are  there  to 
attest  the  humble  event.  There  are  no  princes  of  the 
blood  to  wrap  the  infant  in  the  insignia  of  royalty,  and 
fold  about  his  limbs  the  tapestried  escutcheon  of  a 
kingdom.  His  first  breath  is  not  drawn  in  the  center 
of  a  mighty  capitol,  the  air  laden  with  perfume,  and 
trembling  to  the  tones  of  soft  music  and  the  "murmurs 
of  low  fountains."  But  the  child  is  received  from  its 
mother's  womb  by  hands  imbrowned  with  honest  labor, 
and  laid  upon  a  lowly  couch,  indicative  only  of  a  back- 
woodsman's home  and  an  American's  inheritance.  He, 
too,  is  christened  George,  and  forty-three  years  after- 
ward took  command  of  the  American  forces  assembled 
on  the  plains  of  old  Cambridge. 

But  if  their  births  were  dissimilar,  their  rearing  and 
education  were  still  more  unlike.  From  his  earliest 
recollection  the  Prince  heard  only  the  language  of  flat- 
tery, moved  about  from  palace  to  palace,  just  as  caprice 
dictated,  slept  upon  the  cygnet's  down,  and  grew  up  in 
indolence,  self-will  and  vanity,  a  dictator  from  his  cradle. 
The  peasant  boy,  on  the  other  hand,  was  taught  from 
his  infancy  that  labor  was  honorable,  and  hardships  in- 
dispensable to  vigorous  health.  He  early  learned  to 
sleep  alone  amid  the  dangers  of  a  boundless  wilderness, 
a  stone  for  his  pillow,  and  the  naked  sod  his  bed; 
whilst  the  voices  of  untamed  nature  around  him  sang 
his  morning  and  his  evening  hymns.  Truth,  courage 
and  constancy  were  early  implanted  in  his  mind  by  a 


252  Caxton  s  Book. 

mother's  counsels,  and  the  important  lesson  of  life  was 
taught  by  a  father's  example,  that  when  existence  ceases 
to  be  useful  it  ceases  to  be  happy. 

Early  manhood  ushered  them  both  into  active  life; 
the  one  as  king  over  extensive  dominions,  the  other  as 
a  modest,  careful,  and  honest  district  surveyor. 

Having  traced  the  two  Georges  to  the  threshold  of 
their  career,  let  us  now  proceed  one  step  further,  and 
take  note  of  the  first  great  public  event  in  the  lives  of 
either. 

For  a  long  time  preceding  the  year  1753  the  French 
had  laid  claim  to  all  the  North  American  continent 
west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  stretching  in  an  un- 
broken line  from  Canada  to  Louisiana.  The  English 
strenuously  denied  this  right,  and  when  the  French 
commandant  on  the  Ohio,  in  1753,  commenced  erecting 
a  fort  near  where  the  present  city  of  Pittsburg  stands, 
and  proceeded  to  capture  certain  English  traders,  and 
expel  them  from  the  country,  Dinwiddie,  Governor  of 
Virginia,  deemed  it  necessary  to  dispatch  an  agent  on  a 
diplomatic  visit  to  the  French  commandant,  and  demand 
by  what  authority  he  acted,  by  what  title  he  claimed 
the  country,  and  order  him  immediately  to  evacuate  the 
territory. 

George  Washington,  then  only  in  his  twenty-second 
year,  was  selected  by  the  Governor  for  this  important 
mission. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  follow  him,  in  all  his  perils,  dur- 
ing his  wintery  march  through  the  wilderness.  The 
historian  of  his  life  has  painted  in  imperishable  colors 
his  courage,  his  sagacity,  his  wonderful  coolness  in  the 
midst  of  danger,  and  the  success  which  crowned  his 
undertaking.  The  memory  loves  to  follow  him  through 
the  trackless  wilds  of  the  forest,  accompanied  by  only 


The  Two  Georges.  253 

a  single  companion,  and  making  Lis  way  tlirongii  wintery 
snows,  in  the  midst  of  hostile  savages  and  wikl  beasts, 
for  more  than  five  hundred  miles,  to  the  residence  of 
the  French  commander.  How  often  do  we  not  shud- 
der, as  we  behold  the  treacherous  Indian  guide,  on  his 
return,  deliberately  raising  his  rifle,  and  leveling  it  at 
that  majestic  form;  thus  endeavoring,  by  an  act  of 
treacher}^  and  cowardice,  to  deprive  Virginia  of  her 
young  hero!  And  oh!  with  what  fervent  prayers  do 
we  not  implore  a  kind  Providence  to  watch  over  his 
desperate  encounter  with  the  floating  ice,  at  midnight, 
in  the  swollen  torrent  of  the  Alleghany,  and  rescue  him 
from  the  wave  and  the  storm.  Standing  bareheaded  on 
the  frail  raft,  whilst  in  the  act  of  dashing  aside  some 
floating  ice  that  threatened  to  ingulf  him,  the  treacher- 
ous oar  was  broken  in  his  hand,  and  he  is  precipitated 
many  feet  into  the  boiling  current.  Save!  oh,  save 
him  heaven!  for  the  destinies  of  millions  yet  unborn 
hang  upon  that  noble  arm ! 

Let  us  now  recross  the  ocean.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  year  1764  a  ministerial  crisis  occurs  in  England, 
and  Lord  Bute,  the  favorite  of  the  British  monarch,  is 
driven  from  the  administration  of  the  government.  The 
troubles  with  the  American  colonists  have  also  just  com- 
menced to  excite  attention,  and  the  young  King  grows 
angry,  perplexed,  and  greatly  irritated.  A  few  days 
after  this,  a  rumor  starts  into  circulation  that  the  mon- 
arch is  sick.  His  attendants  look  gloomy,  his  friends 
terrified,  and  even  his  physicians  exhibit  symptoms  of 
doubt  and  danger.  Yet  he  has  no  fever,  and  is  daily 
observed  walking  with  uncertain  and  agitated  step  along 
the  corridors  of  the  palace.  His  conduct  becomes 
gradually  more  and  more  strange,  until  doubt  gives 
place  to  certainty,  and  the  royal  medical  staff  report  to 


2  54  Caxton  s  Book, 

a  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  that  the 
King  is  threatened  with  insanity.  For  six  weeks  the 
cloud  obscures  his  mental  faculties,  depriving  him  of 
all  interference  with  the  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  betokening  a  sad  disaster  in  the  future.  His 
reason  is  finally  restored,  but  frequent  fits  of  passion, 
pride  and  obstinacy  indicate  but  too  surely  that  the 
disease  is  seated,  and  a  radical  cure  impossible. 

Possessed  now  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  George 
Washington  and  George  Guelph,  we  are  prepared  to 
review  briefly  their  conduct  during  the  struggle  that 
ensued  between  the  two  countries  they  respectively 
represented. 

Let  us  now  refer  to  the  first  act  of  disloyalty  of 
Washington,  the  first  indignant  spurn  his  high-toned 
spirit  evinced  under  the  oppressions  of  a  king. 

Not  long  after  his  return  from  the  west,  Washington 
was  offered  the  chief  command  of  the  forces  about  to 
be  raised  in  Virginia,  to  expel  the  French;  but,  with 
his  usual  modesty,  he  declined  the  appointment,  on 
account  of  his  extreme  youth,  but  consented  to  take 
the  post  of  lieutenant-colonel.  Shortly  afterward,  on 
the  death  of  Colonel  Fry,  he  was  promoted  to  the  chief 
command,  but  through  no  solicitations  of  his  own. 
Subsequently,  when  the  war  between  France  and  Eng- 
land broke  out  in  Europe,  the  principal  seat  of  hostili- 
ties was  transferred  to  America,  and  his  Gracious 
Majesty  George  III  sent  over  a  large  body  of  troops, 
under  the  command  of  favorite  officers.  But  this  was  not 
enough.  An  edict  soon  followed,  denominated  an  "  Or- 
der to  settle  the  rank  of  the  ofiicers  of  His  Majesty's 
forces  serving  in  America."  By  one  of  the  articles  of 
this  order,  it  was  provided  "that  all  officers  commis- 
sioned by  the  King,  should  take  precedence  of  those  of 


The   Two  Georges.  255 

tlie  same  grade  commissioned  by  the  governors  of  the 
respective  colonies,  although  their  commissions  might 
be  of  junior  date;"  and  it  was  further  provided,  that 
*'when  the  troops  served  together,  the  provincial  offi- 
cers should  enjoy  no  rank  at  all,"  This  order  was 
scarcely  promulgated — indeed,  before  the  ink  was  dry 
— ere  the  Governor  of  Virginia  received  a  communica- 
tion informing  him  that  George  Washington  was  no  longer 
a  soldier.  Entreaties,  exhortations,  and  threats  were 
all  lavished  upon  him  in  vain;  and  to  those  who,  in 
their  expostulations,  spoke  of  the  defenseless  frontiers 
of  his  native  State,  he  patriotically  but  nobly  replied : 
*'I  will  serve  my  country  when  I  can  do  so  without 
dishonor." 

In  contrast  with  this  attitude  of  Washington,  look  at 
the  conduct  of  George  the  Third  respecting  the  colo- 
nies, after  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act.  This  act  was 
no  sooner  proclaimed  in  America,  than  the  most  violent 
opposition  was  manifested,  and  combinations  for  the 
purpose  of  effectual  resistance  were  rapidly  organized 
from  Massachusetts  to  Georgia.  The  leading  English 
patriots,  among  whom  were  Burke  and  Barre,  protested 
against  the  folly  of  forcing  the  colonies  into  rebellion, 
and  the  city  of  Loudon  presented  a  petition  to  the  King, 
praying  him  to  dismiss  the  Granville  ministry,  and  re- 
peal the  obnoxious  act.  "It  is  with  the  utmost  aston- 
ishment," replied  the  King,  "  that  I  find  any  of  my  sub- 
jects capable  of  encouraging  the  rebellious  disposition 
that  unhappily  exists  in  some  of  my  North  American 
colonies.  Having  entire  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of 
my  parliament,  the  great  council  of  the  realm,  I  will 
steadily  pursue  those  measures  which  they  have  recom- 
mended for  the  support  of  the  constitutional  rights  of 
Great  Britain."     He  heeded  not  the  memorable  words 


256  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

of  Burke,  that  afterward  became  prophetic.  "There 
are  moments,"  exclaimed  this  great  statesman,  "critical 
moments  in  the  fortunes  of  all  states,  when  they  who 
are  too  weak  to  contribute  to  your  prosperity  may  yet 
be  strong  enough  to  complete  your  ruin."  The  Boston 
port  bill  passed,  and  the  first  blood  was  spilt  at  Lex- 
ington. 

It  is  enough  to  say  of  the  long  and  bloody  war  that 
followed,  that  George  the  Third,  by  his  obstinacy,  con- 
tributed more  than  any  other  man  in  his  dominion  to 
prolong  the  struggle,  and  affix  to  it  the  stigma  of  cruelty, 
inhumanity  and  vengeance ;  whilst  Washington  was 
equally  the  soul  of  the  conflict  on  the  other  side,  and  by 
his  imperturbable  justice,  moderation  and  firmness,  did 
more  than  by  his  arms  to  convince  England  that  her 
revolted  colonists  were  invincible. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  review  in  detail  the  old  Eevolu- 
tion.  Let  us  pass  to  the  social  position  of  the  two 
Georges  in  after-life. 

On  the  2d  August,  1786,  as  the  King  was  alighting; 
from  his  carriage  at  the  gate  of  St.  James,  an  attempt 
was  made  on   his   life  by  a  woman  named    Margaret 
Nicholson,  who,  under  pretense  of  presenting  a  petition, 
endeavored  to  stab  him  with  a  knife  which  was  con- 
cealed in  the  paper.     The  weapon  was  an  old  one,  and 
so  rusty  that,  on  striking  the  vest  of  the  King,  it  bent 
double,  and  thus  preserved  his  life.     On  the  29th  Oc-^ 
tober,  1795,  whilst  his  majesty  was  proceeding  to  the 
House  of  Lords,  a  ball  passed  through  both  windows  of 
the  carriage.     On  his   return  to   St.   James  the  mob 
threw  stones  into  the  carriage,  several  of  which  struck 
the  King,  and  one  lodged  in  the  cuff  of  his  coat.     The 
state  carriage  was  completely  demolished  by  the  mob. 
But  it  was  on  the  15th  May,  1800,  that  George  the 


The   Two  Georges.  257 

Third  made  liis  narrowest  escapes.  In  the  morning  of 
that  day,  whilst  attending  the  field  exercise  of  a  bat- 
talion of  guards,  one  of  the  soldiers  loaded  his  piece 
with  a  bullet  and  discharged  it  at  the  King.  The  ball 
fortunately  missed  its  aim,  and  lodged  in  the  thigh  of  a 
gentleman  who  was  standing  in  the  rear.  In  the  even- 
ing of  the  same  day  a  more  alarming  circumstance  oc- 
curred at  the  Drury  Lane  Theatre.  At  the  moment  when 
the  King  entered  the  royal  box,  a  man  in  the  pit,  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  orchestra,  suddenly  stood  up  and 
discharged  a  large  horse-pistol  at  him.  The  hand  of 
the  would-be  assassin  was  thrown  up  by  a  bystander, 
and  the  ball  entered  the  box  just  above  the  head  of  the 
King. 

Such  were  the  public  manifestations  of  afi'ection  for 
this  royal  tyrant.  He  was  finally  attacked  by  an  enemy 
that  could  not  be  thwarted,  and  on  the  20th  December, 
1810,  he  became  a  confirmed  lunatic.  In  this  dreadful 
condition  he  lingered  until  January,  1820,  when  he 
died,  having  been  the  most  unpopular,  unwise  and 
obstinate  sovereign  that  ever  disgraced  the  English 
throne.  He  was  forgotten  as  soon  as  life  left  his  body, 
and  was  hurriedly  buried  with  that  empty  pomp  which 
but  too  often  attends  a  despot  to  the  grave. 

His  whole  career  is  well  summed  up  by  Allan  Cun- 
ningham, his  biographer,  in  few  words:  "Throughout 
his  life  he  manifested  a  strong  disposition  to  be  his 
own  minister,  and  occasionally  placed  the  kingly  pre- 
rogatives in  perilous  opposition  to  the  resolutions  of 
the  nation's  representatives.  His  interference  with  the 
deliberations  of  the  upper  house,  as  in  the  case  of 
Fox's  Indian  bill,  was  equally  ill-judged  and  dangerous. 
Tlie  separation  of  America  from  the  mother  country,  at  the 

time  it  took  place,  was  the  result  of  the  King's  personal  feel- 
17 


258  Caxton  s  Book. 

ings  and  interference  with  the  ministry.  The  war  with 
France  was,  in  part  at  least,  attributable  to  the  views 
and  wishes  of  the  sovereign  of  England.  His  obstinate 
refusal  to  grant  any  concessions  to  his  Catholic  sub- 
jects, kept  his  cabinet  perpetually  hanging  on  the  brink 
of  dissolution,  and  threatened  the  dismemberment  of  the 
kingdom.  He  has  been  often  praised  for  firmness,  but 
it  was  in  too  many  instances  the  firmness  of  obstinacy; 
a  dogged  adherence  to  an  opinion  once  pronounced,  or 
a  resolution  once  formed." 

The  mind,  in  passing  from  the  unhonored  grave  of  the 
prince  to  the  last  resting-place  of  the  peasant  boy,  leaps 
from  a  kingdom  of  darkness  to  one  of  light. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  career  of  "Washington. 
Throughout  the  Revolutionary  War  he  carried,  like 
Atropos,  in  his  hand  the  destinies  of  millions;  he  bore, 
like  Atlas,  on  his  shoulders  the  weight  of  a  world.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  follow  him  throughout  his  subsequent 
career.  Honored  again  and  again  by  the  people  of  the 
land  he  had  redeemed  from  thraldom,  he  has  taken  his 
place  in  death  by  the  side  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  the 
world's  benefactors.  Assassins  did  not  unglory  him  in 
life,  nor  has  oblivion  drawn  her  mantle  over  him  in 
death.  The  names  of  his  great  battle-fields  have  become 
nursery  words,  and  his  principles  have  imbedded  them- 
selves forever  in  the  national  character.  Every  pulsa- 
tion of  our  hearts  beats  true  to  his  memory.  His 
mementoes  are  everywhere  around  and  about  us.  Dis- 
tant as  we  are  from  the  green  fields  of  his  native 
Westmoreland,  the  circle  of  his  renown  has  spread  far 
beyond  our  borders.  In  climes  where  the  torch  of 
science  was  never  kindled;  on  shores  still  buried  in 
primeval  bloom;  amongst  barbarians  where  the  face  of 
liberty  was   never   seen,  the   Christian   missionary   of 


The   Two   Georges,  259 

America,  roused  perhaps  from  liis  lioly  duties  by  the 
distant  echo  of  the  national  salute,  this  day  thundering 
amidst  the  billows  of  every  sea,  or  dazzled  by  the  gleam 
of  his  country's  banner,  this  day  floating  in  every  wind 
of  heaven,  pauses  over  his  task  as  a  Christian,  and 
whilst  memory  kindles  in  his  bosom  the  fires  of  patriot- 
ism, pronounces  in  the  ear  of  the  enslaved  pagan  the 
venerated  name  of  Washington  ! 

Nor  are  the  sons  of  the  companions  of  Washington 
alone  in  doing  justice  to  his  memory.  Our  sisters, 
wives  and  mothers  compete  with  us  in  discharging  this 
debt  of  national  gratitude.  With  a  delicacy  that  none 
biit  woman  could  exhibit,  and  with  a  devotion  that  none 
but  a  daughter  could  feel,  they  are  now  busy  in  execut- 
ing the  noble  scheme  of  purchasing  his  tomb,  in  order 
for  endless  generations  to  stand  sentinel  over  his  re- 
mains. Take  them!  take  them  to  your  hearts,  oh!  ye 
daughters  of  America;  enfold  them  closer  to  your  bosom 
than  your  first-born  offspring;  build  around  them  a 
mausoleum  that  neither  time  nor  change  can  overthrow; 
for  within  them  germinates  the  seeds  of  liberty  for  the 
benefit  of  millions  yet  unborn.  Wherever  tyranny  shall 
lift  its  Medusan  head,  wherever  treason  shall  plot  its 
hellish  schemes,  wherever  disunion  shall  unfurl  its 
tattered  ensign,  there,  oh  there,  sow  them  in  the  hearts 
of  patriots  and  republicans !  For  from  these  pale  ashes 
there  shall  spring,  as  from  the  dragon's  teeth  sown  by 
Cadmus  of  old  on  the  plains  of  Heber,  vast  armies  of 
invincible  heroes,  sworn  upon  the  altar  and  tomb  at 
Mount  Yernon,  to  live  as  freemen,  or  as  such  to  die! 


XXI. 

MASONRY. 

(~\^,  sacred  spirit  of  Masonic  love, 

^-^  Offspring  of  Heaven,  the  angels'  bond  above, 

Guardian  of  peace  and  every  social  tie, 

How  deep  the  sources  of  thy  fountains  lie! 

How  wide  the  realms  that  'neath  thy  wings  expand, 

Embracing  every  clime,  encircling  every  land! 

Beneath  the  aurora  of  the  Polar  skies, 
"Where  Greenland's  everlasting  glaciers  rise. 
The  Lodge  mysterious  lifts  its  snow-built  dome, 
And  points  the  brother  to  a  sunnier  home; 
Where  Nilus  slays  the  sacrificial  kid, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  her  pyramid. 
Where  magian  suns  unclasp  the  gaping  ground, 
And  far  Australia's  golden  sands  abound; 
Where  breakers  thunder  on  the  coral  strand. 
To  guard  the  gates  of  Kamehameha's  land; 
Wherever  man,  in  lambskin  garb  arrayed, 
Strikes  in  defense  of  innocence  betrayed; 
Lifts  the  broad  shield  of  charity  to  all. 
And  bends  in  anguish  o'er  a  brother's  fall; 
Where  the  bright  symbol  of  Masonic  truth. 
Alike  for  high  and  low,  for  age  or  youth. 
Flames  like  yon  sun  at  tropic  midday's  call, 
And  opes  the  universal  eye  on  all! 
What  though  in  secret  all  your  alms  be  done, 
Your  foes  all  vanquished  and  your  trophies  won? 
What  though  a  veil  be  o'er  your  Lodges  thrown, 
And  brother  only  be  to  brother  known  ? 


Masonry.  261 

In  secret,  God  built  up  the  rolling  world; 
In  secret,  morning's  banners  are  unfurled; 
In  secret,  spreads  the  leaf,  unfolds  the  flower, 
Revolve  the  spheres,  and  speeds  the  passing  hour. 
The  day  is  noise,  confusion,  strife,  turmoil, 
Struggles  for  bread,  and  sweat  beneath  the  toil. 
The  night  is  silence — progress  without  jars, 
The  rest  of  mortals  and  the  march  of  stars ! 
The  day  for  work  to  toiling  man  was  given; 
But  night,  to  lead  his  erring  steps  to  Heaven. 
All  hail!  ye  brethren  of  the  mystic  tie! 
"Who  feed  the  hungry,  heed  the  orphan's  cry; 
"Who  clothe  the  naked,  dry  the  widow's  tear, 
Befriend  the  exile,  bear  the  stranger's  bier; 
Stand  round  the  bedside  when  the  fluttering  soul 
Bursts  her  clay  bonds  and  parteth  for  her  goal; 
God  speed  you  in  the  noble  path  you  tread. 
Friends  of  the  living,  mourners  o'er  the  dead. 

May  all  your  actions,  measured  on  the  square, 

Be  just  and  righteous,  merciful  and  fair; 

Your  thoughts  flow  pure,  in  modesty  of  mind, 

Along  the  equal  level  of  mankind; 

Your  words  be  troweled  to  truth's  perfect  tone, 

Your  fame  be  chiseled  in  unblemished  stone, 

Your  hearts  be  modeled  on  the  plummet's  line, 

Your  faith  be  guided  by  the  Book  divine;    ' 

And  when  at  last  the  gavel's  beat  above 

Calls  you  from  labor  to  the  feast  of  love, 

May  mighty  Boaz,  pillar'd  at  that  gate 

Which  seraphs  tyle  and  where  archangels  wait, 

Unloose  the  bandage  from  your  dazzled  eyes, 

Spell  out  the  Password  to  Arch-Royal  skies; 

Upon  your  bosom  set  the  signet  steel. 

Help's  sign  disclose,  and  Friendshij)'s  grip  reveal; 

Place  in  your  grasp  the  soul's  unerring  rod, 

And  light  you  to  the  Temple  of  your  God ! 


^^ 

^ 

^m, 
^ 

W 

^M 

H 


XXII. 

POLLOCK'S  EUTHANASIA. 

E  is  gone !  the  young,  and  gifted ! 
By  his  own  strong  pinions  hfted 
To  the  stars; 


Where  he  strikes,  with  minstrels  olden. 
Choral  harps,  whose  strings  are  golden. 

Deathless  bars. 

There,  with  Homer's  ghost  all  hoary, 
Not  with  years,  but  fadeless  glory, 

Lo!  he  stands; 

And  through  that  open  portal, 
We  behold  the  bards  immortal 

Clasping  hands! 

Hark!  how  Rome's  great  epic  master 
Sings,  that  death  is  no  disaster 

To  the  wise; 

Fame  on  earth  is  but  a  menial. 
But  it  reigns  a  king  perennial 

In  the  skies! 

Albion's  blind  old  bard  heroic. 
Statesman,  sage,  and  Christian  stoic. 

Greets  his  son; 

Whilst  in  paeans  wild  and  glorious. 
Like  his  "  Paradise  victorious," 

Sings,  Well  done! 


Pollock's  Eutha7iasia,  26^ 


o 


Lo!  a  bard  witli  foretead  pendent, 
But  with  glory's  beams  resplendent 

As  a  star; 

Slow  descends  from  regions  higher, 
With  a  crown  and  golden  lyre 

In  his  car. 

All  around  bim,  crowd  as  minions. 
Thrones  and  sceptres,  and  dominions. 

Kings  and  Queens; 

Ages  past  and  ages  present, 
Lord  and  dame,  and  prince  and  peasant. 

His  demesnes! 

Approach!  young  bard  hesperian, 
Welcome  to  the  heights  empyrean. 

Thou  did'st  sing. 

Ere  yet  thy  trembling  fingers 
Struck  where  fame  immortal  lingers, 

In  the  string. 

Kneel!  I  am  the  bard  of  Avon, 
And  the  Eealm  of  song  in  Heaven 

Is  my  own; 

Long  thy  verse  shall  live  in  story, 
And  thy  Lyre  I  crown  with  glory, 

And  a  throne! 


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XXIII. 

SCIENCE,   LITERATURE  AND  ART  DURING    THE 
FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

LOOKING  back  into  the  past,  and  exploring  by  the 
light  of  authentic  history,  sacred  as  well  as  pro- 
fane, the  characteristics  of  former  ages,  the  merest 
tyro  in  learning  cannot  fail  to  perceive  that  certain 
epochs  stand  prominently  out  on  the  "sands  of  time," 
and  indicate  vast  activity  and  uncommon  power  in  the 
human  mind. 

These  epochs  are  so  well  marked  that  history  has 
given  them  a  designation,  and  to  call  them  by  their 
name,  conjures  up,  as  by  the  wand  of  an  enchanter,  the 
heroic  representatives  of  our  race. 

If,  for  instance,  we  should  speak  of  the  era  of  Solo- 
mon, in  sacred  history,  the  memory  would  instantly 
picture  forth  the  pinnacles  of  the  Holy  Temple,  lifting 
themselves  into  the  clouds;  the  ear  would  listen  intently 
to  catch  the  sweet  intonations  of  the  harp  of  David, 
vocal  at  once  M'ith  the  prophetic  sorrows  of  his  race,  and 
swelling  into  sublime  ecstasy  at  the  final  redemption  of 
his  people;  the  eye  would  glisten  at  the  pomp  and 
pageantry  of  the  foreign  potentates  who  thronged  his 
court,  and  gloat  with  rapture  over  the  beauty  of  the 
young  Queen  of  Sheba,  who  journeyed  from  a  distant 
land  to  seek  wisdom  at  the  feet  of  the  wisest  monarch 
that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne.  We  should  behold  his 
ships  traversing  every  sea,  and  pouring  into  the  lap  of 


Science,  Literature  and  Art.  265 

Israel  the  gold  of  Opbir,  the  ivoiy  of  Seuegambia,  and 
the  silks,  myrrh,  and  spices  of  the  East. 

So,  too,  has  profane  history  its  golden  ages,  when 
men  all  seemed  to  be  giants,  and  their  minds  inspired. 

What  is  meant  when  we  speak  of  the  age  of  Pericles  ? 
"We  mean  all  that  is  glorious  in  the  annals  of  Greece. 
We  meai,  Apelles  with  his  pencil,  Phidias  with  his 
chisel,  Alcibiades  with  his  sword.  We  seem  to  be 
strolling  arm-in-arm  with  Plato,  into  the  academy,  to 
listen  to  the  divine  teachings  of  Socrates,  or  hurrying 
along  with  the  crowd  toward  the  theatre,  where  Herod- 
otus is  reading  his  history,  or  Euripides  is  presenting 
his  tragedies.  Aspasia  rises  up  like  a  beautiful  appa- 
rition before  us,  and  we  follow  willing  slaves  at  the 
wheels  of  her  victorious  chariot.  The  whole  of  the 
Peloponnesus  glows  with  intellect  like  a  forge  in  blast, 
and  scatters  the  trophies  of  Grecian  civilization  pro- 
fusely around  us.  The  Parthenon  lifts  its  everlasting 
columns,  and  the  Venus  and  Apollo  are  moulded  into 
marble  immortality. 

Pome  had  her  Augustan  age,  an  era  of  poets,  philos- 
ophers, soldiers,  statesmen,  and  orators.  Crowded  into 
contemporary  life,  we  recognize  the  greatest  general  of 
the  heathen  world,  the  greatest  poet,  the  greatest  orator, 
and  the  greatest  statesman  of  Rome.  Csesar  and  Cicero, 
Yirgil  and  Octavius,  all  trod  the  pavement  of  the  cap- 
itol  together,  and  lent  their  blended  glory  to  immortalize 
the  Augustan  age. 

Italy  and  Spain  and  France  and  England  have  had 
their  golden  age.  The  eras  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent, 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  of  Louis  Quatorze  and  of 
Elizabeth,  can  never  be  forgotten.  They  loom  up  from 
the  surrounding  gloom  like  the  full  moon  bursting  upon 
the  sleeping  seas;  irradiating  the  night,   clothing  the 


2  66  Caxton  s  Book. 

meanest  wave  in  sparkling  silver,  and  dimming  the  lus- 
tre of  the  brightest  stars.  History  has  also  left  in  its 
track  mementoes  of  a  different  character.  In  sacred 
history  we  have  the  age  of  Herod;  in  profane,  the  age 
of  Nero.  We  recognize  at  a  glance  the  talismanic  touch 
of  the  age  of  chivalry,  and  the  era  of  the  Crusades,  and 
mope  our  way  in  darkness  and  gloom  along  that  opaque 
track,  stretching  from  the  reign  of  Justinian,  in  the 
sixth  century,  to  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Third,  in  the 
fourteenth,  and  known  throughout  Christendom  as  the 
"Dark  Ages."  Let  us  noAv  take  a  survey  of  the  field 
we  occupy,  and  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  category  in 
which  our  age  shall  be  ranked  by  our  posterity. 

But  before  proceeding  to  discuss  the  characteristics 
of  our  epoch,  let  us  define  more  especially  what  that 
epoch  embraces. 

It  does  not  embrace  the  American  nor  the  French 
Kevolution,  nor  does  it  include  the  acts  or  heroes  of 
either.  The  impetus  given  to  the  human  mind  by  the 
last  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  must  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  the  impulses  of  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth.  The  first  was  an  era  of  almost  universal 
war,  the  last  of  almost  uninterrupted  peace.  The  dying 
ground-swell  of  the  waves  after  a  storm  belong  to  the 
tempest,  not  to  the  calm  which  succeeds.  Hence  the 
wars  of  Napoleon,  the  literature  and  art  of  his  epoch, 
must  be  excluded  from  observation,  in  properly  discuss- 
ing the  true  characteristics  of  our  era. 

De  Stael  and  Goethe  and  Schiller  and  Byron;  Pitt 
and  Nesselrode,  Metternich  and  Hamilton;  Fichte  and 
Stewart  and  Brown  and  Cousin;  Canova,  Thorwaldseu 
and  La  Place,  though  all  dying  since  the  beginning  of 
this  century,  belong  essentially  to  a  former  era.  They 
were  the  ripened  fruits  of  that  grand  uprising  of  the 


Science,  Literature  and  Art,  267 

linman  mind  which  first  took  form  on  the  4th  day  of 
July,  1776.  Our  era  properly  commences  with  the 
downfall  of  the  first  Napoleon,  and  none  of  the  events 
connected  therewith,  either  before  or  afterward,  can 
be  philosophically  classed  in  the  epoch  we  represent, 
but  must  be  referred  to  a  former  period.  Ages  hence, 
then,  the  philosophic  critic  will  thus  describe  the  first 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century: 

"The  normal  state  of  Christendom  was  peace.  The 
age  of  steel  that  immediately  went  before  it  had  passed. 
It  was  the  Iron  age. 

"Speculative  philosophy  fell  asleep;  literature  de- 
clined ;  Skepticism  bore  sway  in  religion,  politics,  and 
morals;  Utility  became  the  universal  standard  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  the  truths  of  every  science  and  the 
axioms  of  every  art  were  ruthlessly  subjected  to  the 
experimmt'Um  crucis.  Everything  was  liable  to  revision. 
The  verdicts  pronounced  in  the  olden  time  against  Mo- 
hammed and  Mesmer  and  Robespierre  were  set  aside, 
and  a  new  trial  granted.  The  ghosts  of  Roger  Bacon 
and  Emanuel  Swedenborg  were  summoned  from  the 
Stygian  shore  to  plead  their  causes  anew  before  the  bar 
of  public  opinion.  The  head  of  Oliver  Cromwell  was 
ordered  down  from  the  gibbet,  the  hump  was  smoothed 
down  on  the  back  of  Richard  III,  and  the  sentence  pro- 
nounced by  Urban  VIII  against  the  'starry  Galileo' 
reversed  forever.  Aristotle  was  decently  interred  be- 
neath a  modern  monument  inscribed  thus:  ' Li  loace 
requiescat ;'  whilst  Francis  Bacon  was  rescued  from  the 
sacrilegious  hands  of  kings  and  peers  and  parliament, 
and  canonized  by  the  unanimous  consent  of  Christen- 
dom. It  was  the  age  of  tests.  Experiment  governed 
the  world.  Germany  led  the  van,  and  Humboldt  be- 
came the  impersonation  of  his  times." 


2  68  Caxtons  Book. 

Such  unquestionably  will  be  the  verdict  of  the  future, 
when  the  present  time,  with  all  its  treasures  and  trash, 
its  hoj^es  and  realizations,  shall  have  been  safely  shelved 
and  labeled  amongst  the  musty  records  of  bygone  gen- 
erations. 

Let  us  now  examine  into  the  grounds  of  this  verdict 
more  minutely,  and  test  its  accuracy  by  exemplifications. 

I.  And  first,  who  believes  now  in  innate  ideas?  Locke 
has  been  completely  superseded  by  the  materialists  of 
Germany  and  France,  and  all  speculative  moral  phi- 
losophy exploded.  The  audiences  of  Edinburgh  and 
Brown  University  interrupt  Sir  William  Hamilton  and 
Dr.  Wayland  in  their  discourses,  and,  stripping  off  the 
plumage  fj-om  their  theses,  inquisitively  demand,  ''Qui 
bo7io?"  What  is  the  use  of  all  this?  How  can  we  apply 
it  to  the  every-day  concerns  of  life  ?  We  ask  you  for 
bread  and  you  have  given  us  a  stone;  and  though  that 
stone  be  a  diamond,  it  is  valueless,  except  for  its  glitter. 
No  philosopher  can  speculate  successfully  or  even  satis- 
factorily to  himself,  when  he  is  met  at  every  turn  by 
some  vulgar  intruder  into  the  domains  of  Aristotle  and 
Kant,  who  clips  his  wings  just  as  he  was  prepared  to 
soar  into  the  heavens,  by  an  offer  of  copartnership  to 
"speculate,"  it  may  be,  in  the  price  of  pork.  Hence, 
no  moral  philosopher  of  our  day  has  been  enabled  to 
erect  any  theory  which  will  stand  the  assaults  of  logic 
for  a  moment.  Each  school  rises  for  an  instant  to  the 
surface,  and  sports  out  its  little  day  in  toss  and  tribu- 
lation, until  the  next  wave  rolls  along,  with  foam  on 
its  crest  and  fury  in  its  roar,  and  overwhelms  it  forever. 
As  with  its  predecessor,  so  with  itself. 


"The  eternal  surge 
Of  Time  and  Tide  rolls  on  and  bears  afar 
Their  bubbles:  as  the  old  burst,  new  emerge, 
Lashed  from  the  foam  of  ages. " 


Science,  Literature  and  Art.  269 

II.  But  I  have  stated  that  this  is  au  age  of  literary 
decline.  It  is  true  that  more  boohs  are  written  and 
published,  more  newspapers  and  periodicals  printed 
aud  circulated,  more  extensive  libraries  collected  and 
incorporated,  and  more  ink  indiscriminately  spilt,  than 
at  any  former  period  of  the  world's  history.  In  look- 
ing about  us  we  are  forcibly  reminded  of  the  sarcastic 
couplet  of  Pope,  who  complains — 

"  That  those  who  cannot  write,  and  those  who  can, 
All  scratch,  all  scrawl,  and  scribble  to  a  man." 

Had  a  modern  gentleman  all  the  eyes  of  Argus,  all  the 
hands  of  Briarens,  all  the  wealth  of  Croesus,  and  lived 
to  the  age  of  Methuselah,  his  eyes  would  all  fail,  his 
fingers  all  tire,  his  money  all  give  out,  and  his  years 
come  to  an  end,  long  before  he  perused  one  tenth  of 
the  annual  product  of  the  press  of  Christendom  at  the 
present  day.  It  is  no  figure  of  rhetoric  to  say  that  the 
press  groans  beneath  the  burden  of  its  labors.  Could 
the  types  of  Leipsic  and  London,  Paris  and  New  York, 
speak  out,  the  Litauy  would  have  to  be  amended,  and 
a  new  article  added,  to  which  they  would  solemnly 
respond :  ' '  Spare  us,  good  Lord  !" 

A  recent  publication  furnishes  the  following  statis- 
tical facts  relating  to  the  book  trade  in  our  own 
country:  "Books  have  multiplied  to  such  an  extent 
in  the  United  States  that  it  now  takes  750  paper-mills, 
with  2000  engines  in  constant  operation,  to  supply  the 
printers,  who  work  day  and  night,  endeavoring  to  keep 
their  engagements  with  publishers.  These  tireless 
mills  produce  270,000,000  pounds  of  paper  every  year. 
It  requires  a  pound  and  a  quarter  of  old  rags  for  one 
pound  of  paper,  thus  340,000,000  pounds  of  rags  were 
consumed  in  this  way  last  year.  There  are  about  300 
publishers  in  the  United  States,  and  near  10,000  book- 


270  Caxtons  Book. 

sellers   wlio   are   eugaged   in    the    task   of    dispensing 

literary  pabulum  to  the  public." 

It  may  appear  somewhat  paradoxical  to  assert  that 

literature   is   declining  whilst  books   and   authors  are 

multiplying  to  such  a  fearful  extent.     Byron  wrote : 

"  'Tis  pleasant,  sure,  to  see  one's  name  in  print; 
A  book  's  a  book,  although  there  's  nothing  in  't." 

True  enough;  but  books  are  not  always  literature. 
A  man  may  become  an  aiithor  without  ceasing  to  be 
an  ignoramus.  His  name  may  adorn  a  title-page  with- 
out being  recorded  in  cere  perenne.  He  may  attempt 
to  write  himself  up  a  very  "lion"  in  literature,  whilst 
good  master  Slender  may  be  busily  engaged  "in  writing 
him  down  an  ass." 

Not  one  book  in  a  thousand  is  a  success;  not  one 
success  in  ten  thousand  wreathes  the  fortunate  author 
with  the  laurel  crown,  and  lifts  him  up  into  the  region 
of  the  immortals.  Tell  me,  ye  who  prate  about  the 
literary  glory  of  the  nineteenth  century,  wherein  it  con- 
sists?    Whose  are 

"  The  great,  the  immortal  names 
That  were  not  born  to  die  ?" 

I  cast  my  eyes  up  the  long  A'ista  toward  the  Temple 
of  Fame,  and  I  behold  hundreds  of  thousands  pressing 
on  to  reach  the  shining  portals.  They  jostle  each  other 
by  the  way,  they  trip,  they  fall,  they  are  overthrown 
and  ruthlessly  trampled  into  oblivion,  by  the  giddy 
throng,  as  they  rush  onward  and  upward.  One,  it 
ma}^  be  two,  of  the  million  who  started  out,  stand 
trembling  at  the  threshold,  and  with  exultant  voices  cry 
aloud  for  admittance.  One  perishes  before  the  sum- 
mons can  be  answered;  and  the  other,  awed  into  im- 
mortality by  the  august  presence  into  which  he  enters, 
is  transformed  into  imperishable  stone. 


Sciejice,  Literature  and  Art.  271 

Let  us  carefully  scan  the  rolls  of  the  literature  of  our 
era,  and  select,  if  we  can,  poet,  orator,  or  philosopher, 
whose  fame  will  deepen  as  it  runs,  and  brighten  as  it 
burns,  until  future  generations  shall  drink  at  the  foun- 
tain and  be  refreshed,  and  kindle  their  souls  at  the 
vestal  flame  and  be  purified,  illuminated  and  ennobled. 

In  poetry,  aj'e,  in  the  crowded  realms  of  song,  who 
bears  the  sceptre  ? — who  wears  the  crown  ?  America, 
England,  France  and  Germany  can  boast  of  bards  6?/ 
the  gross,  and  rhyme  btj  the  acre,  but  not  a  single  poet. 
The  poeta  nascitur  is  not  here.  He  may  be  on  his  way 
— and  I  have  heard  that  he  was — but  this  generation 
must  pass  before  he  arrives.  Is  he  in  America?  If 
so,  which  is  he  ?  Is  it  Poe,  croaking  sorrowfully  with 
his  "  Eaven,"  or  Willis,  cooing  sweetly  with  his 
"Dove"?  Is  it  Bryant,  with  his  "  Thanatopsis,"  or 
Prentice,  with  his  "Dirge  to  the  Dead  Year"?  Per- 
haps it  is  Holmes,  with  his  "Lyrics,"  or  Longfellow, 
with  his  "Idyls."  Alas! 'is  it  not  self-evident  that  we 
have  no  poet,  when  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  discover 
any  two  critics  in  the  land  who  can  find  him  ? 

True,  we  have  lightning-bugs  enough,  but  no  star; 
foot-hills,  it  may  be,  in  abundance,  but  no  Mount 
Shasta,  with  its  base  built  upon  the  everlasting  granite, 
and  its  brow  bathed  in  the  eternal  sunlight. 

In  England,  Tennyson,  the  Laureate,  is  the  spokesman 
of  a  clique,  the  pet  poet  of  a  princely  circle,  whose 
rhymes  flow  with  the  docility  and  harmony  of  a  limpid 
brook,  but  never  stun  like  Niagara,  nor  rise  into  sub- 
limity like  the  storm-swept  sea. 

Be'ranger,  the  greatest  poet  of  France  of  our  era,  was 
a  mere  song-writer;  and  Heine,  the  pride  of  young  Ger- 
many, a  mere  satirist  and  lyrist.  Freiligrath  can  never 
rank  with  Goethe  or  Schiller;  and  Victor  Hugo  never 


2/2  Caxton  s  Book, 

attain  the  heights  trodden  by  Eacine,  Corneille,  or 
Boileau. 

In  oratory,  where  shall  we  find  the  compeer  of  Chat- 
ham or  Mirabeau,  Burke  or  Patrick  Henry?  I  have 
not  forgotten  Peel  and  Gladstone,  nor  Lamartiue  and 
Count  Cavour,  nor  Sargent  S.  Prentiss  and  Daniel 
Webster.  But  Webster  himself,  by  far  the  greatest 
intellect  of  all  these,  was  a  mere  debater,  and  the 
spokesman  of  a  party.  He  was  an  eloquent  speaker, 
but  can  never  rank  as  an  orator  with  the  rhetoricians  of 
the  last  century. 

And  in  philosophy  and  general  learning,  where  shall 
we  find  the  equal  of  that  burly  old  bully,  Dr.  Sam 
Johnson  ?  and  yet  Johnson,  with  all  his  learning,  was 
a  third-rate  philosopher. 

In  truth,  the  greatest  author  of  our  era  was  a  mere 
essayist.  Beyond  all  controversy,  Thomas  Babington 
Macaulay  was  the  most  polished  writer  of  our  times^ 
With  an  intellect  acute,  logical  and  analytic;  with  an 
imagination  glowing  and  rich,  but  subdued  and  under 
perfect  control;  with  a  style  so  clear  and  limpid  and 
concise,  that  it  has  become  a  standard  for  all  who  aim 
to  follow  in  the  path  he  trod,  and  with  a  learning  so  full 
and  exact,  and  exhaustive,  that  he  was  nicknamed,  when 
an  -undergraduate,  the  "  Omniscient  Macaulay;"  he  still 
lacks  the  giant  grasp  of  thought,  the  bold  originality, 
and  the  intense,  earnest  enthusiasm  which  characterize 
the  master-spirits  of  the  race,  and  identify  them  with 
the  eras  they  adorn. 

III.  As  in  literature,  so  in  what  have  been  denomi- 
nated by  scholars  the  Fine  Arts.  The  past  fifty  years 
has  not  produced  a  painter,  sculptor,  or  composer,  who 
ranks  above  mediocrity  in  their  respective  vocations. 
Canova  and  Thorwaldsen  were  the  last  of  their  racei 


Science^  Literature  mid  Art.  273 


o 


Sir  Joshua  Keynolds  left  no  successor,  and  the  immor- 
tal Beethoven  has  been  superseded  by  negro  minstrelsy 
and  senseless  pantomime.  The  greatest  architect  of 
the  age  is  a  railroad  contractor,  and  the  first  dramatist 
a  cobbler  of  French  farces. 

IV.  But  whilst  the  highest  faculty  of  the  mind — the 
imagination — has  been  left  uncultivated,  and  has  pro- 
duced no  worthy  fruit,  the  next  highest,  the  casual,  or 
the  one  that  deals  with  causes  and  effects,  has  been 
stimulated  into  the  most  astonishing  fertility. 

Our  age  ignores  fancy,  and  deals  exclusively  with 
fact.  Within  its  chosen  range  it  stands  far,  very  far 
pre-eminent  over  all  that  have  preceded  it.  It  reaps 
the  fruit  of  Bacon's  labors.  It  utilizes  all  that  it  touches. 
It  stands  thoughtfully  on  the  field  of  Waterloo,  and 
estimates  scientifically  the  manuring  properties  of  bones 
and  blood.  It  disentombs  the  mummy  of  Thotmes  II, 
sells  the  linen  bandages  for  the  manufacture  of  paper, 
burns  the  asphaltum-soaked  body  for  firewood,  and 
plants  the  pint  of  red  wheat  found  in  his  sarcophagus, 
to  try  an  agricultural  experiment.  It  deals  in  no  sen- 
timentalities; it  has  no  appreciation  of  the  sublime. 
It  stands  upon  the  ocean  shore,  but  with  its  eyes  fixed 
on  the  yellow  sand  searching  for  gold.  It  confronts 
Niagara,  and,  gazing  with  rapture  at  its  misty  shroud, 
exclaims,  in  an  ecstasy  of  admiration,  ' '  Lord,  what  a 
place  to  sponge  a  coat!"  Having  no  soul  to  save,  it 
has  no  religion  to  save  it.  It  has  discovered  that 
Mohammed  was  a  great  benefactor  of  his  race,  and  that 
Jesus  Christ  was,  after  all,  a  mere  man ;  distinguished, 
it  is  true,  for  his  benevolence,  his  fortitude  and  his 
morality,  but  for  nothing  else.  It  does  not  believe  in 
the  Pope,  nor  in  the  Church,  nor  in  the  Bible.  It  ridi- 
cules the  infallibility  of  the  first,  the  despotism  of  the 
18 


2/4  Caxtoii  s  Book. 

second,  and  the  chronology  of  the  third.  It  is  possessed 
of  the  very  spirit  of  Thomas ;  it  must ' '  touch  and  handle  " 
before  it  will  believe.  It  questions  the  existence  of 
spirit,  because  it  cannot  be  analyzed  by  chemical  solv- 
ents; it  questions  the  existence  of  hell,  because  it  has 
never  been  scorched;  it  questions  the  existence  of  God, 
because  it  has  never  beheld  Him. 

It  does,  however,  believe  in  the  explosive  force  of 
gunpowder,  in  the  evaporation  of  boiling  water,  in  the 
head  of  the  magnet,  and  in  the  heels  of  the  lightnings. 
It  conjugates  the  Latin  verb  invenio  (to  find  out) 
through  all  its  voices,  moods  and  tenses.  It  invents 
ever3-thiug;  from  a  lucifer  match  in  the  morning  to 
kindle  a  kitchen  fire,  up  through  all  the  intermediate 
ranks  and  tiers  and  grades  of  life,  to  a  telescope  that 
spans  the  heavens  in  the  evening,  it  recognizes  no  chasm 
or  hiatus  in  its  inventions.  It  sinks  an  artesian  well  in 
the  desert  of  Sahara  for  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  bores 
through  tlie  AUeghanies  for  a  hogshead  of  oil.  From  a 
fish-hook  to  the  Great  Eastern,  from  a  pocket  deriuger 
to  a  columbiad,  from  a  sewing  machine  to  a  Victoria 
suspension  bridge,  it  oscillates  like  a  pendulum. 

Deficient  in  literature  and  art,  our  age  surpasses  all 
others  in  science.  Knowledge  has  become  the  great 
end  and  aim  of  human  life.  "  I  want  to  know,"  is  in- 
scribed as  legibly  on  the  hammer  of'  the  geologist,  the 
crucible  of  the  chemist,  and  the  equatorial  of  the  astron- 
omer, as  it  is  upon  the  phiz  of  a  regular  "Down-Easter." 
Our  age  has  inherited  the  chief  failing  of  our  first 
mother,  and  passing  by  the  "  Tree  of  Life  in  the  midst 
of  the  Garden,"  we  are  all  busily  engaged  in  mercilessly 
plundering  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  of  all  its  fruit.  The 
time  is  rapidly  approaching  when  no  man  will  be  con- 
sidered a  gentleman  who  has  not  filed  his  caveat  in  the 
Patent  Office. 


Science,  Literature  and  Art,  275 

The  inevitable  result  of  this  spirit  of  the  age  begins 
already  to  be  seen.  The  philosophy  of  a  cold,  blank, 
calculating  materialisna  has  taken  possession  of  all  the 
avenues  of  learning.  Epicurus  is  worshiped  instead  of 
Christ.  Mammon  is  considered  as  the  only  true  savior. 
Dum  Vivimus  Vivamus,  is  the  maxim  we  live  by,  and 
the  creed  we  die  by.  We  are  all  iconoclasts.  St.  Paul 
has  been  superseded  by  St.  Fulton;  St.  John  by  St. 
Colt;  St.  James  by  St.  Morse;  St.  Mark  by  St.  Maury; 
and  St.  Peter  has  surrendered  his  keys  to  that  great 
incarnate  representative  of  this  age,  St.  Alexandre  Von 
Humboldt. 


XXIV. 

THE  ENROBING  OF  LIBERTY. 

rpHE  war-drum  was  silent,  the  cannon  was  mute, 
-*-     The  sword  in  its  scabbard  lay  still. 
And  battle  had  gathered  the  last  autumn  fruit 

That  crimson-dyed  river  and  rill, 
When  a  Goddess  came  down  from  her  mansion  on  high, 

To  gladden  the  world  with  her  smile, 
Leaving  only  her  robes  in  the  realm  of  the  sky, 

That  their  sheen  might  no  mortal  beguile. 

As  she  lit  on  the  earth  she  was  welcomed  by  Peace, 

Twin  sisters  in  Eden  of  yore — 
But  i^arted  forever  when  fetter-bound  Greece 

Drove  her  exiled  and  chained  from  her  shore; 
Never  since  had  the  angel  of  liberty  trod 

In  virginal  beauty  below; 
But,  chased  from  the  earth,  she  had  mounted  to  God, 

Despoiled  of  her  raiment  of  snow. 

Our  sires  gathered  round  her,  entranced  by  her  smile, 

Eemembering  the  footprints  of  old 
She  had  graven  on  grottoes,  in  Scio's  sweet  Isle, 

Ere  the  doom  of  fair  Athens  was  told. 
"  I  am  naked, "^she  cried;  "  lam  homeless  on  earth; 

Kings,  Princes,  and  Lords^are  my  foes. 
But  I  stand  undismayed,  though  an  orphan  by  birth, 

And  condemned  to  the  region  of  snows." 


The  Enrobing  of  Liberty.  277 

"  Hail,  Liberty!  hail" — our  fathers  exclaim — 

"  To  the  glorious  land  of  the  West! 
With  a  diadem  bright  we  will  honor  thy  name, 

And  enthrone  thee  America's  guest; 
We  will  found  a  great  nation  and  call  it  thine  own, 

And  erect  here  an  altar  to  thee. 
Where  millions  shall  kneel  at  the  foot  of  thy  throne 

And  swear  to  forever  be  free  !" 

Then  each  brought  a  vestment  her  form  to  enrobe, 

And  screen  her  fair  face  from  the  sun, 
And  thus  she  stood  forth  as  the  Queen  of  the  globe 

When  the  work  of  our  Fathers  was  done. 

A  circlet  of  stars  round  her  temples  they  wove. 

That  gleamed  like  Orion's  bright  band, 
And  an  emblem  of  power,  the  eagle  of  Jove, 

They  jDcrched  like  a  bolt  in  her  hand; 
On  her  forehead,  a  scroll  that  contained  but  a  line"^ 

Was  written  in  letters  of  light, 
That  oiir  great  " Constitution"  forever  might  shine, 

A  sun  to  illumine  the  niofht. 


^o^ 


Her  feet  were  incased  in  broad  sandals  of  gold. 

That  riches  might  spring  in  her  train; 
While  a  warrior's  casque,  with  its  visor  uproll'd, 

Protected  her  tresses  and  brain; 
Round  her  waist  a  bright  girdle  of  satin  was  bound, 

Formed  of  colors  so  blended  and  true, 
That  when  as  a  banner  the  scarf  was  unwound. 

It  floated  the  "  Eed,  White  and  Blue." 

Then  Liberty  calm,  leant  on  Washington's  arm, 

And  spoke  in  prophetical  strain : 
"Columbia's  proud  hills  I  will  shelter  from  ills. 

Whilst  her  valleys  and  mountains  remain ; 


278  Caxtons  Book. 

But  palsied  the  hand  that  would  pillage  the  band 

Of  sisterhood  stars  in  my  crown, 
And  death  to  the  knave  whose  sword  would  enslave, 

By  striking  your  great  charter  down. 

"  Your  eagle  shall  soar  this  western  world  o'er, 

And  carry  the  sound  of  my  name, 
Till  monarchs  shall  quake  and^its  confines  forsake. 

If  true  to  your  ancestral^fame  ! 
Your  banner  shall  gleam  like  the  polar  star's  beam, 

'J'o  guide  through  rebellion's  Red  sea, 
And  in  battle  'twill  wave,  both  to  conquer  and  save. 

If  borne  by  the  hands  of  the  free  !" 


XXV. 

A  CAKE  OF  SOAP, 

T  STOOD  at  my  wasbstand,  one  bright  sunny  morn, 

And  gazed  tlirough  the  blinds  at  the  upspringing  corn, 
And  mourn'd  that  my  summers  were  passing  away, 
Like  the  dew  on  the  meadow  that  morning  in  May. 

I  seized,  for  an  instant,  the  Iris-hued  soap. 
That  glowed  in  the  dish,  like  an  emblem  of  hope, 
And  said  to  myself,  as  I  melted  its  snows, 
"  The  longer  I  use  it,  the  lesser  it  grows." 

For  life,  in  its  morn,  is  full  freighted  and  gay, 
And  fair  as  the  rainbow  when  clouds  float  away; 
Sweet-scented  and  useful,  it  sheds  its  perfume. 
Till  wasted  or  blasted,  it  melts  in  the  tomb. 

Thus  day  after  day,  whilst  we  lather  and  scrub, 
Time  wasteth  and  blasteth  with  many  a  rub. 
Till  thinner  and  thinner,  the  soap  wears  away. 
And  age  hands  us  over  to  dust  and  decay. 

Oh  Bessie  !  dear  Bess  !  as  I  dream  of  thee  now. 

With  the  spice  in  thy  breath,  and  the  bloom  on  thy  brow. 

To  a  cake  of  j)ure  Lubin  thy  life  I  compare, 

So  fragrant,  so  fragile,  and  so  debonair ! 

But  fortune  was  fickle,  and  labor  was  vain. 
And  want  overtook  us,  with  grief  in  its  train, 
Till,  worn  out  by  troubles,  death  came  in  the  blast; 
But  thy  kisses,  like  Lubiu's,  were  sweet  to  the  last ! 


XXVI. 

THE  SUMMERFIELD  CASE. 

THE  following  additional  particulars,   as  sequel  to 
the  Summerfield  homicide,  have  been  furnished  by 
an  Auburn  correspondent: 

Me.  Editor:  The  remarkable  confession  of  the  late 
Leonidas  Parker,  which  appeared  in  your  issue  of  the 
13th  ultimo,  has  given  rise  to  a  series  of  disturbances 
in  this  neighborhood,  which,  for  romantic  interest  and 
downright  depravity,  have  seldom  been  surpassed,  even 
in  California.  Before  proceeding  to  relate  in  detail  the 
late  transactions,  allow  me  to  remark  that  the  wonderful 
narrative  of  Parker  excited  throughout  this  county  sen- 
timents of  the  most  profound  and  contradictory  charac- 
ter. I,  for  one,  halted  between  two  opinions — horror 
and  incredulity;  and  nothing  but  subsequent  events 
could  have  fully  satisfied  me  of  the  unquestionable 
veracity  of  your  San  Francisco  correspondent,  and  the 
scientific  authenticity  of  the  facts  related. 

The  doubt  with  which  the  story  was  at  first  received 
in  this  community — and  which  found  utterance  in  a  bur- 
lesque article  in  an  obscure  country  journal,  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  of  Auburn — has  finally  been  dispelled,  and 
we  find  ourselves  forced  to  admit  that  we  stand  even 
now  in  the  presence  of  the  most  alarming  fate.     Too 


The  Summerjield  Case,  281 

much  credit  cannot  be  awarded  to  our  worthy  coroner 
for  the  promptitude  of  his  action,  and  we  trust  that  the 
Governor  of  the  State  will  not  be  less  efficient  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty. 

[Since  the  above  letter  was  written  the  following  procla- 
mation has  been  issued. — P.  J.] 

PROCLAMATION    OF    THE    GOVERNOR. 
$10,000  REWARD  ! 

Depabtment  of  State. 

By  virtue  of  the  authority  in  me  vested,  I  do  hereby  offer 
the  above  reward  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  in  gold  coin  of 
the  United  States,  for  the  arrest  of  Bartholomew  G-raham, 
familiarly  known  as  Black  Bart.  Said  Graham  is  accused 
of  the  murder  of  C.  P.  Gillson,  late  of  Auburn,  county  of 
Placer,  on  the  14th  ultimo.  He  is  five  feet  ten  inches  and 
a  half  in  height,  thick  set,  has  a  mustache  sprinkled  with 
gray,  grizzled  hair,  clear  blue  eyes,  walks  stooping,  and 
served  in  the  late  civil  war,  under  Price  and  Quantrell,  in 
the  Confederate  army.  He  may  be  lurking  in  some  of  the 
mining-camps  near  the  foot-hills,  as  he  was  a  "Washoe 
teamster  during  the  Comstock  excitement.  The  above 
reward  will  be  paid  for  him,  dead  or  alive,  as  he  possessed 
himself  of  an  important  secret  by  robbing  the  body  of  the 
late  Gregory  Summerfield. 

By  the  Governor:  H.  G.  Nicholson, 

Secretary  of  State. 

Given  at  Sacramento,  this  the  fifth  day  of  June,  1871. 

Our  correspondent  continues: 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Sheriff  Higgins  has  not  been 
so  active  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  as  the  urgency  of 
the  case  required,  but  he  is  perhaps  excusable  on  ac- 
count of  the  criminal  interference  of  the  editor  above 
alluded  to.  But  I  am  detaining  you  from  more  import- 
ant matters.  Your  Saturday's  paper  reached  here  at  4 
o'clock,  Saturday,  13th  May,  and,  as    it  now  appears 


282  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

from  the  evidence  taken  before  the  coroner,  several 
persons  left  Auburn  on  the  same  errand,  but  without 
any  previous  conference.  Two  of  these  were  named 
respectively  Charles  P.  Gillson  and  Bartholomew  Gra- 
ham, or,  as  he  was  usually  called,  "  Black  Bart." 
Gillson  kept  a  saloon  at  the  corner  of  Prickly  Ash 
Street  and  the  Old  Spring  Road;  and  Black  Bart  was 
in  the  employ  of  Conrad  &  Co.,  keepers  of  the  Norfolk 
livery  stable.  Gillson  was  a  son-in-law  of  ex-Governor 
Roberts,  of  Iowa,  and  leaves  a  wife  and  two  children  to 
mourn  his  untimely  end.  As  for  Graham,  nothing  cer- 
tain is  known  of  his  antecedents.  It  is  said  that  he 
was  engaged  in  the  late  robbery  of  Wells  &  Fargo's 
express  at  Grizzly  Bend,  and  that  he  was  an  habitual 
gambler.  Only  one  thing  about  him  is  certainly  well 
known:  he  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Confederate  army, 
and  served  under  General  Price  and  the  outlaw  Quau- 
trell.  He  was  a  man  originally  of  fine  education, 
plausible  manners  and  good  family;  but  strong  drink 
seems  early  in  life  to  have  overmastered  him,  and  left 
him  but  a  wreck  of  himself.  But  he  was  not  incapable 
of  generous,  or  rather,  romantic,  acts;  for,  during  the 
burning  of  the  Putnam  House,  ia  this  town,  last  sum- 
mer, he  rescued  two  ladies  from  the  flames.  In  so 
doing  he  scorched  his  left  hand  so  seriously  as  to  con- 
tract the  tendons  of  two  fingers,  and  this  very  scar  may 
lead  to  his  apprehension.  There  is  no  doubt  about  his 
utter  desperation  of  character,  and,  if  taken  at  all,  it 
will  probably  be  not  alive. 

So  much  for  the  persons  concerned  in  the  tragedy  at 
the  Flat. 

Herewith  I  inclose  copies  of  the  testimony  of  the 
witnesses  examined  before  the  coroner's  jury,  together 
with  the  statement  of  Gillson,  taken  in  articulo  mortis : 


The  S2im7nerfield  Case.  283 


deposition  of  dollie  adams. 

State  of  California,  \ 
County  of  Placer.     ) 

Said  witness,  being-  duly  sworn,  deposed  as  follows,  to 
wit:  My  name  is  Dollie  Adams;  my  age  forty-seven  years; 
I  am  the  wife  of  Frank  G.  Adams,  of  this  townsliij),  and 
reside  on  the  North  Fork  of  the  American  River,  below 
Cape  Horn,  on  Thompson's  Flat;  about  one  o'clock  p.m.. 
May  14,  1871,  I  left  the  cabin  to  gather  Avood  to  cook 
dinner  for  my  husband  and  the  hands  at  work  for  him  on 
the  claim;  the  trees  are  mostly  cut  away  from  the  bottom, 
and  I  had  to  climb  some  distance  up  the  mountain  side 
before  I  could  get  enough  to  kindle  the  fire;  I  had  gone 
about  five  hundred  yards  from  the  cabin,  and  was  searching 
for  small  sticks  of  fallen  timber,  when  I  thought  I  heard 
some  one  groan,  as  if  in  pain;  I  paused  and  listened;  the 
groaning  became  more  distinct,  and  I  started  at  once  for 
the  place  whence  the  sounds  proceeded;  about  ten  steps  off 
I  discovered  the  man  whose  remains  lie  there  (pointing  to 
the  deceased),  sitting  up,  Avith  his  back  against  a  big  rock; 
he  looked  so  pale  that  I  thought  him  already  dead,  but  he 
continued  to  moan  until  I  reached  his  side;  hearing  me 
a^jproach,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  begged  me,  "  For  Grod's 
sake,  give  me  a  droji  of  water!"  I  asked  him,  "What 
is  the  matter?"  He  replied,  "I  am  shot  in  the  back." 
"Dangerously?"  I  demanded.  "Fatally!"  he  faltered. 
Without  waiting  to  question  him  further,  I  returned  to  the 
cabin,  told  Zenie — my  daughter — what  I  had  seen,  and  sent 
her  ofl'  on  a  run  for  the  men.  Taking  with  mg  a  gourd  of 
water,  some  milk  and  bread — for  I  thought  the  poor  gentle- 
man might  be  hungry  and  weak,  as  well  as  wounded — I 
hurried  back  to  his  side,  where  I  remained  until  "  father" 
— as  we  all  call  my  husband — came  with  the  men.  We 
removed  him  as  gently  as  we  could  to  the  cabin;  then  sent 
for  Dr.  Liebner,  and  nursed  him  until  he  died,  yesterday, 
just  at  sunset. 

Question  by  the  Coroner:  Did  you  hear  his  statement, 
taken  down  by  the  Assistant  District  Attorney  ? — A.  I  did. 

Q,  Did  you  see  him  sign  it  ? — A.  Yes,  sir. 

Q.  Is  this  your  signature  thereto  as  witness  ? — A.  It  is, 
sir. 

(Signed)  Dollie  Adams. 


284  Caxtons  Book. 

DEPOSITION    OF    MISS    X.  V.   ADAMS. 

Being  first  duly  sworn,  witness  testified  as  follows:  My 
name  is  Xixenia  Volumnia  Adams;  I  am  the  daughter  of 
Frank  G.  Adams  and  the  last  witness;  I  reside  with  them 
on  the  Flat,  and  my  age  is  eighteen  years;  a  little  past 
1  o'clock  on  Sunday  last  my  mother  came  running  into  the 
house  and  informed  me  that  a  man  was  dying  from  a 
wound,  on  the  side-hill,  and  that  I  must  go  for  father  and 
the  boys  immediately.  I  ran  as  fast  as  my  legs  would 
carry  me  to  where  they  were  "  cleaning  up,"  for  they  never 
cleaned  up  week-days  on  the  Flat,  and  told  the  news;  we 
all  came  back  together  and  proceeded  to  the  spot  where 
the  wounded  man  lay  weltering  in  his  blood;  he  was  cau- 
tiously removed  to  the  cabin,  where  he  lingered  until 
yesterday  sundown,  when  he  died. 

Question.  Did  he  speak  after  he  reached  the  cabin? 
A.  He  did  frequently;  at  first  with  great  pain,  but  after- 
ward more  audibly  and  intelligibly. 

Q.  What  did  he  say?  A.  First,  to  send  for  Squire 
Jacobs,  the  Assistant  District  Attorney,  as  he  had  a  state- 
ment to  make;  and  some  time  afterward,  to  send  for  his 
wife ;  but  we  first  of  all  sent  for  the  doctor. 

Q.  Who  was  present  when  he  died?  A.  Only  myself; 
he  had  appeared  a  great  deal  easier,  and  his  wife  had  lain 
down  to  take  a  short  nap,  and  my  mother  had  gone  to  the 
spring  and  left  me  alone  to  watch;  suddenly  he  lifted  him- 
self spasmodically  in  bed,  glared  around  wildly  and  mut- 
tered something  inaudible;  seeing  me,  he  cried  out,  "  Eun! 
run!  run!  He  has  it!  Black  Bart  has  got  the  vial!  Quick! 
or  he'll  set  the  world  afire !  See,  he  opens  it!  Ob,  my  God ! 
Look!  look!  look!  Hold  his  hands!  tie  him!  chain  him 
down!  Too  late !  too  late !  oh  the  flames !  Fire!  fire!  fire!" 
His  tone  of  voice  gradually  strengthened  until  the  end  of 
his  raving;  when  he  cried  "fire!"  his  eyeballs  glared,  his 
mouth  quivered,  his  body  convulsed,  and  before  Mrs.  Gill- 
son  could  reach  his  bedside  he  fell  back  stone  dead. 

(Signed)  X.  Y.  Adams. 

The  testimony  of  Adams  corroborated  in  every  par- 
ticular that  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  but  set  forth 
more  fully  the  particulars  of  his  demoniac  ravings. 
He  would  taste  nothing  from  a  glass  or  bottle,   but 


The  Summerfield  Case.  285 

shuddered  whenever  any  article  of  that  sort  met  his 
eyes.  In  fact,  they  had  to  remove  from  the  room  the 
cups,  tumblers,  and  even  the  castors.  At  times  he 
spoke  rationally,  but  after  the  second  day  only  in  mo- 
mentary flashes  of  sanity. 

The  deposition  of  the  attending  physician,  after  giv- 
ing the  general  facts  with  regard  to  the  sickness  of  the 
patient  and  his  subsequent  demise,  proceeded  thus: 

I  found  the  patient  weak,  and  suffering  from  loss  of 
blood  and  rest,  and  want  of  nourishment;  occasionally 
sane,  but  for  the  most  part  flighty  and  in  a  comatose  con- 
dition. The  wound  was  an  ordinary  gunshot  wound, 
produced  most  probably  by  the  ball  of  a  navy  revolver, 
fired  at  the  distance  of  ten  paces.  It  entered  the  back 
near  the  left  clavicle,  beneath  the  scapula,  close  to  the 
vertebree  between  the  intercostal  spaces  of  the  fifth  and 
sixth  ribs;  grazing  the  pericardium  it  traversed  the  medi- 
astiuum,  barely  touching  the  oesophagus,  and  vena  azygos, 
but  completely  severing  the  thoracic  duct,  and  lodging  in 
the  xiphoid  portion  of  the  sternum.  Necessarily  fatal, 
there  was  no  reason,  however,  why  the  patient  could  not 
linger  for  a  week  or  more;  but  it  is  no  less  certain  that  from 
the  efiect  of  the  wound  he  ultimately  died.  I  witnessed 
the  execution  of  the  jDaper  shown  to  me — as  the  statement 
of  deceased — at  his  request;  and  at  the  time  of  signing  the 
same  be  was  in  his  perfect  senses.  It  was  taken  down  in 
my  presence  by  Jacobs,  the  Assistant  District  Attorney  of 
Placer  County,  and  read  over  to  the  deceased  before  he 
affixed  his  signature.  I  was  not  present  when  he  breathed 
his  last,  having  been  called  away  by  my  patients  in  the 
town  of  Auburn,  but  I  reached  his  bedside  shortly  after- 
ward. In  my  judgment,  no  amount  of  care  or  medical 
attention  could  have  prolonged  his  life  more  than  a  few 
days. 

(Signed)  Karl  Liebner,  M.  D. 

The  statement  of  the  deceased  was  then  introduced 
to  the  jury  as  follows: 


2  86  Caxton  s  Book. 

People  of  the  State  of  California  ) 

vs.  V 

Bartholomew  Graham.  ) 

Statement  and  Dying  Confession  of  Charles  P.  Gillson,  taken  in  articulo 
mortis  by  George  Simpson,  Notary  Public. 

On  tlie  morning  of  Sunday,  the  14tli  day  of  May,  1871, 
I  left  Auburn  alone  in  search  of  the  body  of  the  late  Greg- 
ory Summerfield,  who  was  reported  to  have  been  pushed 
from  the  cars  at  Cape  Horn,  in  this  county,  by  one  Leonidas 
Parker,  since  deceased.  It  was  not  fully  light  when  I 
reached  the  track  of  the  Central  Pacific  Kailroad.  Having 
mined  at  an  early  day  on  Thompson's  Flat,  at  the  foot  of 
the  rocky  promontory  now  called  Cape  Horn,  I  was  familiar 
with  the  zigzag  paths  leading  down  that  steep  precipice. 
One  was  generally  used  as  a  descent,  the  other  as  an  ascent 
from  the  canon  below.  I  chose  the  latter,  as  being  the 
freest  from  the  chance  of  observation.  It  required  the 
greatest  caution  to  thread  the  narrow  gorge;  but  I  finally 
reached  the  rocky  bench,  about  one  thousand  feet  below 
the  grade  of  the  railroad.  It  was  now  broad  daylight,  and 
I  commenced  cautiously  the  search  for  Summerfield's  body. 
There  is  quite  a  dense  undergrowth  of  shrubs  thereabouts, 
lining  the  interstices  of  the  granite  rocks  so  as  to  obscure 
the  vision  even  at  a  short  distance.  Brushing  aside  a  thick 
manzanita  bush,  I  beheld  the  dead  man  at  the  same  instant 
of  time  that  another  person  arrived  like  an  apparition  upon 
the  spot.  It  was  Bartholomew  Graham,  known  as  "Black 
Bart."  We  suddenly  confronted  each  other,  the  skeleton 
of  Summerfield  lying  exactly  between  us.  Our  recognition 
was  mutual.  Graham  advanced  and  I  did  the  same;  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  we  greeted  one  another  across 
the  prostrate  corpse. 

Before  releasing  my  hand,  Black  Bart  exclaimed  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  "Swear,  Gillson,  in  the  presence  of  the 
dead,  that  3'ou  will  forever  be  faithful,  never  betray  me, 
and  do  exactly  as  I  bid  you,  as  long  as  you  live  I" 

I  looked  him  full  in  the  eye.  Fate  sat  there,  cold  and 
remorseless  as  stone.  I  hesitated;  with  his  left  hand  he 
slightly  raised  the  laj^pels  of  his  coat,  and  grasped  the 
Jiandle  of  a  navy  revolver. 

"Swear!"  again  he  cried. 

As  I  gazed,  his  eyeballs  assumed  a  greenish  tint,  and  his 


The  SiLnimcrfield  Case.  287 

brow  darkened  into   a   scowl.     "As  your  confederate,"  I 
answered,  "never  as  your  slave." 

"Be  it  so!"  was  his  only  reply. 

The  body  was  lying  upon  its  back,  with  tbe  face  upwards. 
The  vultures  had  despoiled  the  countenance  of  every  ves- 
tige of  flesh,  and  left  the  sockets  of  the  eyes  empty.  Snow 
and  ice  and  rain  had  done  their  work  effectually  upon  the 
exposed  surfaces  of  his  clothing,  and  the  eagles  had  feasted 
upon  the  entrails.  But  underneath,  the  thick  beaver  cloth 
had  served  to  protect  the  flesh,  and  there  were  some  decay- 
ing shreds  left  of  what  had  once  been  the  terrible  but 
accomplished  Gregory  Summerfield.  A  glance  told  us  all 
these  things.  But  they  did  not  interest  me  so  much  as 
another  spectacle,  that  almost  froze  my  blood.  In  the 
skeleton  gripe  of  the  right  hand,  interlaced  within  the 
clenched  bones,  gleamed  the  wide-mouthed  vial  which  was 
the  object  of  our  mutual  visit,  Graham  fell  upon  his 
knees,  and  attempted  to  withdraw  the  prize  from  the  grasp 
of  its  dead  possessor.  But  the  bones  were  firm,  and  when 
he  finally  succeeded  in  securing  the  bottle,  by  a  sudden 
WTench,  I  heard  the  skeleton  fingers  snap  like  pipe-stems. 

"  Hold  this  a  moment,  whilst  I  search  the  pockets,"  he 
commanded. 

I  did  as  directed. 

He  then  turned  over  the  corpse,  and  thrusting  his  hand 
into  the  inner  breast-pocket,  dragged  out  a  roll  of  MSS., 
matted  closely  together  and  stained  by  the  winter's  rains. 
A  further  search  eventuated  in  finding  a  roll  of  small  gold 
coin,  a  set  of  deringer  pistols,  a  rusted  double-edged  dirk, 
and  a  pair  of  silver-mounted  sjDectacles.  Hastily  covering 
over  the  body  with  leaves  and  branches  cut  from  the  em- 
bowering shrubs,  we  shudderingly  left  the  spot. 

We  slowly  descended  the  gorge  toward  the  banks  of  the 
American  River,  until  we  arrived  in  a  small  but  sequestered 
thicket,  where  we  threw  ourselves  upon  the  ground.  Neither 
had  spoken  a  word  since  we  left  the  scene  above  described. 
Graham  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence  which  to  me  had 
become  oppressive. 

' '  Let  us  examine  the  vial  and  see  if  the  contents  are 
safe." 

I  drew  it  forth  from  my  pocket  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"Sealed  hermetically,  and  perfectly  secure,"  he  added. 
Saying  this  he  deliberately  wrajjped  it  up  in  a  handkerchief 
and  placed  it  in  his  bosom. 


2  88  Caxton  s  Book. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  our  prize?"  I  inquired. 

"  Our  prize?"  As  he  said  this  he  laughed  derisively,  and 
cast  a  most  scornful  and  threatening  glance  toward  me. 

"  Yes,"  I  rejoined  firmly;  "  our  prize!" 

"Gillson,"  retorted  Graham,  "you  must  regard  me  as  a 
consummate  simpleton,  or  yourself  a  Goliah.  This  bottle 
is  mine,  and  mine  only.  It  is  a  great  fortune  for  one,  but 
of  less  value  than  a  toadstool  for  two.  I  am  willing  to 
divide  fairly.  This  secret  would  be  of  no  service  to  a 
coward.  He  would  not  dare  to  use  it.  Your  share  of  the 
robbery  of  the  body  shall  be  these  MSS. ;  you  can  sell  them 
to  some  poor  devil  of  a  printer,  and  pay  yourself  for  your 
day's  work." 

Saying  this  he  threw  the  bundle  of  MSS.  at  my  feet;  but 
I  disdained  to  touch  them.  Observing  this,  lie  gathered 
them  up  safely  and  replaced  them  in  his  pocket.  ' '  As  you 
are  unarmed,"  he  said,  "it  would  not  be  safe  for  you  to  be 
seen  in  this  neighborhood  during  daylight.  We  will  both 
spend  the  night  here,  and  just  before  morning  return  to 
Auburn.     I  will  accompany  you  part  of  the  distance." 

With  the  sangfroid  of  a  perfect  desperado,  he  then 
stretched  himself  out  in  the  shadow  of  a  small  tree,  drank 
deeply  from  a  whisky  flagon  which  he  produced,  and  pull- 
ing his  hat  over  his  eyes,  was  soon  aslee^^  and  snoring. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  believe  the  evidence  of 
my  own  senses.  Finally,  I  approached  the  ruffian,  and 
placed  my  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  did  not  stir  a  muscle. 
I  listened;  I  heard  only  the  deep,  slow  breathing  of  pro- 
found slumber.  Resolved  not  to  be  balked  and  defrauded 
by  such  a  scoundrel,  I  stealthily  withdrew  the  vial  from  his 
pocket,  and  sprang  to  my  feet,  just  in  time  to  hear  the  click 
of  a  revolver  behind  me.  I  was  betrayed !  I  remember  only 
a  flash  and  an  explosion — a  deathly  sensation,  a  whirl  of  the 
rocks  and  trees  about  me,  a  hideous  imprecation  from  the 
lips  of  my  murderer,  and  I  fell  senseless  to  the  earth.  When 
I  awoke  to  consciousness  it  was  past  midnight.  I  looked  up 
at  the  stars,  and  recognized  Lyra  shining  full  in  my  face. 
That  constellation  I  knew  passed  the  meridian  at  this  season 
of  the  year  after  twelve  o'clock,  and  its  slow  march  told  me 
that  many  weary  hours  would  intervene  before  daylight. 
My  right  arm  was  paralyzed,  but  I  put  forth  my  left,  and  it 
rested  in  a  pool  of  my  own  blood.  "  Oh,  for  one  drop  of 
water! "  I  exclaimed,  faintly;  but  only  the  low  sighing  of  the 


The  Sicmvierjield  Case.  289 

nifTflit  blast  responded.  Again  I  fainted.  Shortly  after  day- 
light I  revived,  and  crawled  to  the  spot  where  I  was  dis- 
covered on  the  next  day  by  the  kind  mistress  of  this  cabin. 
You  know  the  rest.  I  accuse  Bartholomew  Graham  of  my 
assassination.  I  do  this  in  the  jDerfect  possession  of  my 
senses,  and  with  a  full  sense  of  my  resj)onsibility  to 
Almighty  God. 

(Signed)  C.  P.  Gillson. 

George  Simpson,  Notarj'  Piiblic. 

Chris.  Jacobs,  Assistant  District  Attorney. 


DoLLiE  Adams,  I  wjtup^eR 
Karl  Liebnkb,  [  ^Vituesses. 


The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's 
jury: 

County  of  Placer,     ] 
Cape  Horn  Townshi}).  j 

In  re  C.  P.  Gillson,  late  of  said  county,  deceased. 

"We,  the  undersigned,  coroner's  jury,  summoned  in  the 
foregoing  case  to  examine  into  the  causes  of  the  death  of 
said  Gillson,  do  find  that  he  came  to  his  death  at  the  hands 
of  Bartholomew  Graham,  usually  called  "  Black  Bart,"  on 
Wednesday,  the  17th  May,  1871.  And  we  further  find 
said  Graham  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree,  and  rec- 
ommend his  immediate  apprehension. 

(Signed)  John  Quillan, 

Peter  McInttre, 
Abel  George, 
Alex.  Scriber, 
(Correct:)  "VVm,  A.  Thompson. 

Thos.  J.  Alwyn, 

Coroner. 

The  above  documents  constitute  the  papers  intro- 
duced before  the  coroner.  Should  anything  of  further 
interest  occur,  I  will  keep  you  fully  advised. 

POWHATTAN  JONES. 

Since  the  above  was  in  type  we  have  received  from 
19 


290  Caxtons  Book. 

our  esteemed  San  Francisco  correspondent  tlie  follow- 
ing letter : 

San  Feancisco,  June  8,  1871. 
Mr.  Editor:  Ou  entering  my  office  tliis  morning  I  found 
a  bundle  of  MSS.  wliicli  had  been  thrown  in  at  the  transom 
over  the  door,  labeled,  "The  Summerfield  MSS."  At- 
tached to  them  was  an  unsealed  note  from  one  Bartholo- 
mew Graham,  in  these  words: 

Deab  Sir:  These  are  yours;  yoii  have  earned  them.  I  commend  to 
j'our  especial  notice  the  one  styled  "i)e  Mundo  Comburendo."  At  a 
future  time  you  may  hear  again  from 

Baetholomew  Geaham. 

A  casual  glance  at  the  papers  convinces  me  that  they  are 
of  great  literary  value.  Summerfield' s  fame  never  burned 
so  brightly  as  it  does  over  his  grave.  Will  you  publish  the 
MSS.? 


XXVII. 

THE  AVITOR. 

"TUTURRAH  for  the  wings  that  never  tire — 

— *-     For  the  nerves  that  never  quail; 
For  the  heart  that  beats  in  a  bosom  of  fire — 
For  the  lungs  whose  cast-iron  lobes  respire 
Where  the  eagle's  breath  would  fail! 

As  the  genii  bore  Aladdin  away, 

In  search  of  his  palace  fair, 
On  his  magical  wings  to  the  land  of  Cathay, 
So  here  I  will  spread  out  my  pinions  to-day 

On  the  cloud-borne  billows  of  air. 

Up!  up!  to  its  home  on  the  mountain  crag, 

Where  the  condor  builds  its  nest, 
I  mount  far  fleeter  than  hunted  stag, 
I  float  far  higher  than  Switzer  flag — 
Hurrah  for  the  lightning's  guest ! 

Away,  over  steej)le  and  cross  and  tower — 

Away,  over  river  and  sea; 
I  spurn  at  my  feet  the  temjDests  that  lower, 
Like  minions  base  of  a  vanquished  power. 

And  mutter  their  thunders  at  me  I 

Diablo  frowns,  as  above  him  I  pass, 

Still  loftier  heights  to  attain; 
Calaveras'  groves  are  but  blades  of  grass — 
Yosemite's  sentinel  peaks  a  mass 

Of  ant-hills  dotting  a  plain ! 


292  Caxtojis  Book. 

Sierra  Nevada's  shroud  of  snow, 

And  Utah's  desert  of  sand, 
Shall  never  again  turn  backward  the  flow 
Of  that  human  tide  which  may  come  and  go 

To  the  vales  of  the  sunset  land! 

Wherever  the  coy  earth  veils  her  face 

With  tresses  of  forest  hair; 
Where  polar  pallors  her  blushes  efface. 
Or  tropical  blooms  lend  her  beauty  and  grace — 

I  can  flutter  my  plumage  there! 

Where  the  Amazon  rolls  through  a  mystical  land- 
Where  Chiapas  buried  her  dead — 
Where  Central  Australian  deserts  expand — - 
Where  Africa  seethes  in  saharas  of  sand — 
Even  there  shall  my  pinions  spread ! 

No  longer  shall  earth  with  her  secrets  beguile, 

For  I,  with  undazzled  eyes. 
Will  trace  to  their  sources  the  Niger  and  Nile, 
And  stand  without  dread  on  the  boreal  isle, 

The  Colon  of  the  skies! 

Then  hurrah  for  the  wings  that  never  tire — 

For  the  sinews  that  never  quail; 
For  the  heart  that  throbs  in  a  bosom  of  fire  — 
For  the  lungs  whose  cast-iron  lobes  respire 

Where  the  eagle's  breath  would  fail ! 


XXVIII. 

LOST  AND  FOUND. 

'n^WAS  eventide  in  Eden.     The  mortals  stood, 

AVatcliful  and  solemn,  in  speechless  sorrow  bound. 
He  was  erect,  defiant,  and  uublenched. 
Tho'  fallen,  free— deceived,  but  not  undone. 
She  leaned  on  him,  and  drooped  her  pensive  brow 
In  token  of  the  character  she  bore — 
The  world's  first  penitent.     Tears,  gushing  fast. 
Streamed  from  her  azure  eyes;  and  as  they  fled 
Beyond  the  eastern  gate,  where  gleamed  the  swords 
Of  guarding  Cherubim,  the  flowers  themselves 
Bent  their  sad  heads,  surcharged  with  dewy  tears, 
Wept  by  the  stars  o'er  man's  immortal  woe. 

Far  had  they  wandered,  slow  had  been  the  pace, 
Grief  at  his  heart  and  ruin  on  her  face. 
Ere  Adam  turned  to  contemiDlate  the  spot 
"Where  Earth  began,  where  Heaven  was  forgot. 
He  gazed  in  silence,  till  the  crystal  wall 
Of  Eden  trembled,  as  though  doomed  to  fall: 
Then  bidding  Eve  direct  her  tear-dimmed  eye 
To  where  the  foliage  kissed  the  western  sky, 
They  saw,  with  horror  mingled  with  surprise, 
The  wall,  the  garden,  and  the  foliage  rise! 
Slowly  it  mounted  to  the  vaulted  dome, 
And  paused  as  if  to  beckon  mortals  home; 
Then,  like  a  cloud  when  winds  are  all  at  rest, 
It  floated  gently  to  the  distant  west. 
And  left  behind  a  crimson  path  of  light, 
By  which  to  track  the  Garden  in  its  flight! 


294  Caxton  s  Book. 

Day  after  day,  the  exiles  wandered  on, 

With  eyes  still  fixed,  where  Eden's  smile  last  shone; 

Forlorn  and  friendless  through  the  wilds  they  trod, 

Remembering  Eden,  but  forgetting  God, 

Till  far  across  the  sea-washed,  arid  plain. 

The  billows  thundered  that  the  search  was  yain ! 

Ah !  who  can  tell  how  oft  at  eventide, 
When  the  gay  west  was  blushing  like  a  bride, 
Fair  Eve  hath  whispered  in  her  children's  ear, 
"  Beyond  yon  cloud  will  Eden  reaj^x^ear! " 

And  thus,  as  slow  millenniums  rolled  away. 
Each  generation,  ere  it  turned  to  clay, 
Has  with  prophetic  lore,  by  nature  blest. 
In  search  of  Eden  wandered  to  the  West. 

I  cast  my  thoughts  far  up  the  stream  of  time, 
And  catch  its  murmurs  in  my  careless  rhyme. 
I  hear  a  footstep  tripping  o'er  the  down: 
Behold !  'tis  Athens,  in  her  violet  crown. 
In  fancy  now  her  splendors  reappear; 
Her  fleets  and  i^halanxes,  her  shield  and  spear; 
Her  battle-fields,  blest  ever  by  the  free, — 
Proud  Marathon,  and  sad  Thermopylae! 
Her  poet,  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  fame. 
Homer!  a  god — but  with  a  mortal's  name; 
Historians,  richest  in  j^rimeval  lore; 
Orations,  sounding  yet  from  shore  to  shore ! 
Heroes  and  statesmen  throng  the  enraj^tured  gaze. 
Till  glory  totters  'neath  her  load  of  praise. 
Surely  a  clime  so  rich  in  old  renown 
Could  build  an  Eden,  if  not  woo  one  down! 

Lo!  Plato  comes,  with  wisdom's  scroll  unfurl'd, 
The  proudest  gift  of  Athens  to  the  w^orld! 


Lost  ajid  Found.  295 

Wisest  of  mortals,  say,  for  tliou  can'st  tell, 

Thou,  -whose  sweet  lips  the  Muses  loved  so  well, 

Was  Greece  the  Grarden  that  our  fathers  trod; 

When  men,  like  angels,  walked  the  earth  with  God? 

"Alas!"  the  great  Philosopher  replied, 

"Though  I  love  Athens  better  than  a  bride, 

Her  laws  are  bloody  and  her  children  slaves; 

Her  sages  slumber  in  empoisoned  graves; 

Her  soil  is  sterile,  barren  are  her  seas; 

Eden  still  blooms  in  the  Hesperides, 

Bej'ond  the  pillars  of  far  Hercules! 

Westward,  amid  the  ocean's  blandest  smile, 

Atlantis  blossoms,  a  perennial  Isle; 

A  vast  Republic  stretching  far  and  wide,  -- 

Greater  than  Greece  and  Macedon  beside!" 

The  vision  fades.     Across  the  mental  screen 
A  mightier  spirit  stalks  upon  the  scene; 
His  tread  shakes  emi^ires  ancient  as  the  sun; 
His  voice  resounds,  and  nations  are  undone; 
War  in  his  tone  and  battle  in  his  eye. 
The  world  in  arms,  a  Roman  dare  defy! 
Throned  on  the  summit  of  the  seven  hills, 
He  bathes  his  gory  heel  in  Tiber's  rills; 
Stretches  his  arms  across  a  triple  zone. 
And  dares  be  master  of  mankind,  alone! 
All  peoples  send  their  tribute  to  his  store; 
Wherever  rivers  glide  or  surges  roar. 
Or  mountains  rise  or  desert  plains  expand. 
His  minions  sack  and  pillage  every  land. 
But  not  alone  for  rapine  and  for  war 
The  Roman  eagle  spreads  his  pinions  far; 
He  bears  a  sceptre  in  his  talons  strong. 
To  guard  the  right,  to  rectify  the  wrong. 
And  can'ies  high,  in  his  imijerial  beak, 
A  shield  armored  to  protect  the  weak. 


296  Caxton  s  Book. 

Justice  and  law  are  dropping  from  his  wing, 
Equal  alike  for  consul,  serf  or  king; 
Daggers  for  tyrants,  for  patriot-heroes  fame, 
Attend  like  menials  on  the  Roman  name ! 

Was  Eome  the  Eden  of  our  ancient  state, 
Just  in  her  laws,  in  her  dominion  great, 
Wise  in  her  counsels,  matchless  in  her  worth. 
Acknowledged  great  proconsul  of  the  earth  ? 

An  eye  prophetic  that  has  read  the  leaves 
The  sibyls  scattered  from  their  loosened  sheaves, 
A  bard  that  sang  at  Eome  in  all  her  j)ride, 
Shall  give  response; — let  Seneca  decide! 

"  Beyond  the  rocks  where  Shetland's  breakers  roar, 

And  clothe  in  foam  the  wailing,  ice-bound  shore, 

Within  the  bosom  of  a  tranquil  sea, 

Where  Earth  has  reared  her  Ultima  Thule, 

The  gorgeous  AVest  conceals  a  golden  clime. 

The  petted  child,  the  paragon  of  Time! 

In  distant  years,  when  Ocean's  mountain  wave 

Shall  rock  a  cradle,  not  upheave  a  grave. 

When  men  shall  walk  the  pathway  of  the  brine. 

With  feet  as  safe  as  Terra  watches  mine. 

Then  shall  the  barriers  of  the  Western  Sea 

Despised  and  broken  down  forever  be; 

Then  man  shall  spurn  old  Ocean's  loftiest  crest, 

And  tear  the  secret  from  his  stormy  breast ! " 

Again  the  vision  fades.     Night  settles  down 

And  shrouds  the  world  in  black  Plutonian  frown; 

Earth  staggers  on,  like  mourners  to  a  tomb. 

Wrapt  in  one  long  millennium  of  gloom. 

That  past,  the  light  breaks  through  the  clouds  of  war, 

And  drives  the  mists  of  Bigotr}^  afar; 


Lost  and  Fotmd,  297 

Amalfi  sees  her  buried  tomes  unfurrd, 
And  dead  Justinian  rules  again  the  world. 
The  torch  of  Science  is  illumed  once  more; 
Adventure  gazes  from  the  surf-beat  shore, 
Lifts  in  his  arms  the  wave-worn  Genoese, 
And  hails  Iberia,  Mistress  of  the  Seas! 

"What  cry  resounds  along  the  Western  main, 
Mounts  to  the  stars,  is  echoed  back  again, 
And  wakes  the  voices  of  the  startled  sea. 
Dumb  until  now,  from  past  eternity? 

"  Land!  land!"  is  chanted  from  the  Pinta's  deck; 

Smiling  afar,  a  minute  glory-sj^eck. 

But  grandly  rising  from  the  convex  sea, 

To  crown  Colon  with  immortality. 

The  Western  World  emerges  from  the  wave, 

God's  last  asylum  for  the  free  and  brave! 

But  where  within  this  ocean-bounded  clime. 

This  fairest  offspring  of  the  womb  of  time, — 

Plato's  Atlantis,  risen  from  the  sea, 

Utopia's  realm,  beyond  old  Rome's  Thule, — 

Where  shall  we  find,  within  this  giant  land. 

By  blood  redeemed,  with  Freedom's  rainbow  spann'd, 

The  spot  first  trod  by  mortals  on  the  earth, 

Where  Adam's  race  was  cradled  into  birth  ? 

'Twas  sought  by  Cortez  with  his  warrior  band, 
In  realms  once  ruled  by  Montezuma's  hand; 
Where  the  old  Aztec,  'neath  his  hills  of  snow, 
Built  the  bright  domes  of  silver  Mexico. 
Pizarro  sought  it  where  the  Inca's  rod 
Proclaimed  the  prince  half-mortal,  demi-god. 
Where  the  mild  children  of  unblest  Peru 
Before  the  bloodhounds  of  the  conqueror  flew, 


298  Caxtoii  s  Book, 

And  saw  their  country  and  their  race  undone, 

And  perish  'neath  the  Temple  of  the  Sun! 

De  Soto  sought  it,  with  his  tawny  bride, 

Near  where  the  Mississippi's  waters  glide, 

Beneath  the  ripples  of  whose  yellow  wave 

He  found  at  last  both  monument  and  grave. 

Old  Ponce  de  Leon,  in  the  land  of  flowers, 

Searched  long  for  Eden  'midst  her  groves  and  bowers, 

Whilst  brave  La  Salle,  where  Texan  prairies  smile, 

Roamed  westward  still,  to  reach  the  happy  isle. 

The  Pilgrim  Fathers  on  the  Mayflower's  deck. 

Fleeing  beyond  a  tyrant's  haughty  beck. 

In  quest  of  Eden,  trod  the  rock-bound  shore. 

Where  bleak  New  England's  wintry  surges  roar; 

Ealeigh,  with  gloiy  in  his  eagle  eye, 

Chased  the  lost  realm  beneath  a  Southern  sky; 

Whilst  Boone  believed  that  Paradise  was  found 

In  old  Kentucky's  "dark  and  bloody  ground!" 

In  vain  their  labors,  all  in  vain  their  toil; 
Doomed  ne'er  to  breathe  that  air  nor  tread  that  soil. 
Heaven  had  reserved  it  till  a  race  sublime 
Should  launch  its  heroes  on  the  wave  of  time! 

Go  with  me  now,  ye  Calif ornian  band, 

And  gaze  with  wonder  at  your  glorious  land; 

Ascend  the  summit  of  yon  middle  chain. 

Where  Mount  Diablo  rises  from  the  plain,  J 

And  cast  your  eyes  with  telescopic  power. 

O'er  hill  and  forest,  over  field  and  flower. 

Behold !  how  free  the  hand  of  God  hath  roll'd 

A  wave  of  wealth  across  your  Land  of  Gold ! 

The  mountains  ooze  it  from  their  swelling  breast. 

The  milk-white  quartz  displays  it  in  her  crest; 

Each  tiny  brook  that  warbles  to  the  sea. 

Harps  on  its  strings  a  golden  melody; 


Lost  and  Foznid.  299 

Whilst  the  young  waves  are  cradled  on  the  shore 
On  spangling-  pillows,  stuffed  with  golden  ore ! 

Look  northward!     See  the  Sacramento  glide 

Through  valleys  blooming  like  a  royal  bride, 

And  bearing  onward  to  the  ocean's  shore 

A  richer  freight  than  Arno  ever  bore ! 

See!  also  fanned  by  cool  refreshing  gales, 

Fair  Petaluma  and  her  sister  vales, 

Whose  fields  and  orchards  ornament  the  plain 

And  deluge  earth  with  one  vast  sea  of  grain! 

Look  southward!     Santa  Clara  smiles  afar, 

As  in  the  fields  of  heaven,  a  radiant  star; 

Los  Angeles  is  laughing  through  her  vines; 

Old  Monterey  sits  moody  midst  her  pines; 

Far  San  Diego  flames  her  golden  bow. 

And  Santa  Barbara  sheds  her  fleece  of  snow, 

Whilst  Bernardino's  ever-vernal  down 

Gleams  like  an  emerald  in  a  monarch's  crown! 

Look  eastward!     On  the  plains  of  San  Joaquin 

Ten  thousand  herds  in  dense  array  are  seen. 

Aloft  like  columns  propping  up  the  skies 

The  cloud-kissed  groves  of  Calaveras  rise; 

Whilst  dashing  downward  from  their  dizzy  home 

The  thundering  falls  of  Yo  Semite  foam! 

Look  westward !     Opening  on  an  ocean  great. 

Behold  the  portal  of  the  Golden  Gate! 

Pillared  on  granite,  destined  e'er  to  stand 

The  iron  rampai-t  of  the  sunset  land ! 

With  rosy  cheeks,  fanned  by  the  fresh  sea-breeze, 

The  petted  child  of  the  Pacific  seas, 

See  San  Francisco  smile!     Majestic  heir 

Of  all  that's  brave,  or  bountiful,  or  fair. 

Pride  of  our  land,  by  every  wave  carest, 

And  hailed  by  nations,  Venice  of  the  West! 


^00 


Caxton  s  Book. 


Where  then  is  Eden?     Ah!  why  shouhl  I  tell, 
What  every  ej^e  and  bosom  know  so  well? 
AVhy  name  the  land  all  other  lands  have  blest, 
And  traced  for  ages  to  the  distant  West  ? 
Why  search  in  vain  throughout  th'  historic  page 
For  Eden's  garden  and  the  Golden  Age? 
Here,  Brothers,  here!  no  further  let  us  roam; 
This  is  the  Garden  !  Eden  is  our  Home  ! 


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